


Teen Rebellion {Spencer Reid AU}

by iminlovewiththc



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, High School, Loss of Virginity, Marijuana, Mommy Issues, New York, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, Virginia, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 51,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29671566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iminlovewiththc/pseuds/iminlovewiththc
Summary: Y/N, Sunny Hill (Kyle Gallner), and Spencer Reid (Matthew Gray Gubler) are incoming high school seniors battling the last year of high school. Through drama, drinking, smoking, and parental issues, they find their way through the school year together. Spencer Reid and Y/N have been close friends since 1st grade and while Spencer has a girlfriend, it’s an odd relationship. Y/N has always been fond of Spencer, and her senior year is full of bold risks.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Kudos: 1





	1. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

"Stuff it in your mouth," you tell Spencer, who's taking out a triangular slice of a sandwich you brought. Spencer brings the slice up to his mouth and you stuff it inside, earning laughter from the both of you. 

"God," Spencer shouts through the moans and gargles, "don't do that Y/N you're gonna kill me."

You shove him back but he doesn't budge, which only makes you eager to do it again. He bites down on the sandwich then takes it and places the uneaten yet smashed part onto the plate next to him. He takes the water bottle next to him and unscrews the top, taking a long gulp. 

He winces then twists the cap back on, throwing it to the side. It definitely isn't water. "Vodka?" you ask to make sure. He nods and grabs the bottle, handing it to you. You nod and unscrew the top, swallowing the warm liquid. You wince, the liquid burning your throat and disturbing your insides. 

"After a summer of drinking you would think you're better at hiding all that," Spencer tells you, grabbing the sandwich and taking a bite out of it. 

Your eyebrows turn down, taken aback by the assumption. "What made you think I spent all summer drinking? You were in Las Vegas playing chess." 

He rolls his eyes, his boyband hair covering his right eye. He notices and lifts his hand, swiping away the hair. "I visited my dad and it was awful, so please don't ask about the details." 

You turn and grab a lemonade from the small basket you brought. Spencer has taken one already, gulping it down in an instant. Now you have one left, reserved for Sunny. Sunny Hill. Sunny Hill is an eighteen year old teenage boy who was held back a year in third grade. He was placed in Miss Richard's third grade glass, the same one you were in with Spencer. You all got along well that Monday afternoon at recess and ever since, you have been glued together. 

Sunny is considered cool, shades on, leather jacket kind of cool except he has no leather jacket, only jet black shades. He has smooth hair, sometimes curly, sometimes straight, but he always attempts slicking it back. It obviously doesn't work, so you mess it up for him. 

Spencer pushes aside his bag and chips and lies down on the plaid blanket, his hands reaching for his sunglasses. He slides them onto his face then tucks his hands underneath his head, letting out a heavy sigh. 

Spencer has been away for the summer at his dad's and you've been left alone, essentially. Sunny has been working at the guitar shop and your sister- Penelope- has been out with her friends Emily and Derek. "No time, sweetheart. You gotta' learn how to live on your own," she would tell you every day she went out. 

You kept in contact with Spencer the entire summer, but he began distancing himself just a tad bit. You didn't think anything of it in the beginning because he was with his father, doing father and son things, but then you started thinking deeper. Perhaps you were overthinking, but Spencer always kept in close contact with you, even when he was away at Las Vegas. 

You began to think that maybe he was speaking to someone, found a girl to chat with in Las Vegas and they hit it off. You had no way of proving you were correct, but you stuck to your assumptions. 

On the contrary, you did not keep as close contact with Sunny. Sunny is the kind of person to not speak to you for a while, despite being super close, then snap back into himself and return to speaking to you as if nothing happened. He's odd, but you pay no mind to it because he's always nice to you and Spencer. You're all tight, even after every bump in the road you're crossed with. 

You look up from the drink and find Sunny walking up to your seating area, his hand rubbing his neck like he's trying to hide something. You squint your eyes and see the reason he's acting so suspicious. "Holy shit," you whisper to yourself, your eyes widening and your mouth slowly parting. 

Sunny notices and begins waving his hands up and down, shouting: "fuck off Y/N!" every inch he steps closer to you. You swat at Spencer's arm, waking him from the short nap he was taking. "Look," you exclaim, "Sunny was just attacked by a vampire." 

Spencer jolts up and snatches his sunglasses off of his face, gripping them tightly in his right hand. He looks at Sunny and immediately begins laughing, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. You look at his expression closely, taking in his teeth and his sharp jawline. He looks perfect. But the issue is, you've seen him grow into this seventeen-year old young adult that it's unnatural to think of him differently. 

"Hey pretty girl, maybe next time you'll get one of these," Sunny says, hitting your shoulder.

You snap out of your stare and avert your gaze to Sunny's neck, which is littered with dark red- almost purple hickeys. You groan at the sight of his, what you call, injured neck. "No thanks, unless you're gonna give them to me," you tease.

"Haha," Sunny replies, his tone sarcastic. You place your left hand on his right shoulder and turn him so he's facing you. You bring your fingers to his skin and glide them over the marks, amused almost at what you're seeing. You've never received a hickey before so you have no idea what it feels like. 

"Come on hon, don't do that, it's weird," Spencer interrupts, taking your arm and pulling it back. "He's probably infected with bacteria." 

"He is," you state. You lean back and turn your head, inspecting his neck further although you've seen enough. "Who gave those to you anyway?" 

Sunny swallows the lump in his throat, his bottom lip now teethed between his teeth. He doesn't want to say who, but he knows you and Spencer will force him to give it up. "Who is it man?" Spencer joins in. 

He doesn't speak for a moment. He's building up the courage to say so, you suppose. "Delilah Walker," he finally says after a long silence. 

"Short girl, small feet, red lips all the time?" Spencer asks, all of the non-objectifying questions like usual. 

"Big tits, skinny waist, hair to her ass? Red plump lips, mhm." 

You hit Sunny, earning a groan from him. "Sunny shut the hell up, don't say that. You could have just said 'petite girl with hair to her ass' and we would have known." 

They stare blankly, only Spencer's eyebrows raising angrily at Sunny. Sunny knows you hate it when he makes comments such as the one he made a second ago. Those comments were at an all time high in seventh grade, but you slapped him with such force that he stopped for a couple of years. Then puberty hit him like a bus and he... Sunny began changing during and after puberty, so his comments returned. You talked to him about it and he promised he would keep it at a minimum, and he has, but at a minimum. He has not fully retired from those jack-ass comments.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Well her, Reid. I picked her up after work and we drove around for a while because damn does it get dark late. It'll be nine o'clock and the sun will still be out." Sunny leans in and so does Spencer, both engaged in what's shared. You could care less because to be quite honest, you are protective of your friends. 

You have always cared about your friends, but as you grew older it became different. You were the only girl in the group and you were the glue that not only kept the group together, but them as well. But that wasn't the reasoning behind your protectiveness, well not fully. They've had dozens of crushes before, some leading into relationships, such as Maeve. 

Maeve Donovan, blond hair that was dyed brown in middle school because supposedly she had a stalker. Her hair grew out into its natural blonde color and rested in beautiful waves on her shoulders. She was perfection, matched Spencer's type and of course, he fell for her. They spoke for a couple of months then they dated for a year. 

Oh how many times Spencer said they were soulmates, that they would last forever, but that was not the case. Maeve claimed that her families stalker had returned which meant she had to leave the state. She stayed true to her word; she left, though no 'good-bye Spencer', no 'I'll miss you', nothing. He was heartbroken, but it dissipated after a couple months. 

And Sunny is a different story. He is semi-known for playing girls, the other being known for playing the guitar. Since he plays the guitar, he's like a chick magnet. He's brought girls to trio dates, but none returned. Surprisingly, he's still got his virginity (or so you think). He's made out with girls, kissed both you and Spencer, but he has not gone further. 

He says he's saving his card for "someone special." Whatever that means. 

You pick at the flowers next to the blanket, taking out the roots and flicking them to the side out of boredom. You take a glance at your nails, the dirt underneath making you uncomfortable and shameful. 

Sunny rubs your knee, running warmth through your body. "Don't be all protective, special girl. This was a little thing... for my summer project." 

"That makes it worse Sun. You used her for a stupid summer project, that's fucked up," you mutter. You lay your chin on your shoulder and look at him, his smirk dimming your anger. You should still be mad. Sunny is such a fuckup, but so are you and Spencer. 

"Not gonna lie to you, it is fucked up," Spencer says. "I could have done that for you, you know that." 

Sunny takes in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds then exhaling. "I think I just wanted some hickeys," he admits. 

"Nice one," Spencer replies in a dull tone. 

You roll your eyes, upset with Sunny once again. "Sunny, I will slap you into next year." 

"Don't do that hon, it's not worth it," Spencer tells you. He grabs your hand and opens your fist, running his soft fingers on the lines of your palms. 

"Oh look at Reid, defending the girl who can defend herself," Sunny mimics, his fingers running through today's curly hair. 

"Sun, come on man. Look, be nice to her 'kay? I have to go get some meds for my mom." Spencer lets go of your hand and stands up, dusting his brown corduroy pants off with his hands. He bends down and grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. 

Sunny extends his hand up to Spencer, to which he rejects. "I don't know where that hand's been," he says. Sunny scoffs, taking his hand and wiping his nose as if nothing happened. 

"Bye," you call out, "see you tomorrow at 8:00! Don't be late please." 

"I won't!" he returns in the same tone. He disappears into the long, tree filled path, his slim body hiding in the summer leaves. 

You let out an inhibited breath, your body limp without Spencer around. Spencer can be boring, but he still remains livening the room every time he walks in. Sunny is still bright and star-like, but he cannot compare to Spencer. 

You gaze at Sunny, taking in him and his fellow purple buddies. "You look like shit," you admit. 

"Awe thanks. You look beautiful too, pretty girl. The soles to them boots worn out yet?" Sunny jokes, pressing on the bottoms of your Docs. 

You shoo away his hand, pushing it back to his bubble. "No, they're completely fine." 

He reaches out and begins ticking your stomach, attacking you like the times he would come back from summer camp. You push his hands away, hitting him every chance you get. He's stronger than you think, but you're still given some power. "Sun, get off," you pant. "I don't like it." 

"Fine," he laughs between each jab. He stops tickling you but remains on top of you, his hands on either side of your head, his curls covering part of his eye. He breathes heavily, as though he's came back from running a marathon. 

You look into his dirty blue eyes, sweaty ones that have rejected the sun for too long. He's stayed inside of that guitar shop all summer, no trips to the beach, simply staying inside like he's some vampire. His skin color matches that as well. 

He remains silent, but you have questions; questions that don't involve him. You catch your breath and begin with question one. "Okay, Sun. I have a question." 

"Mhm," he answers. 

You bite down on your lip, wondering if you should even ask what's been bothering you since mid-June. You want to know if your bestfriend has some kind of secret girlfriend. You have no problem with Spencer having a girlfriend, but you want to at least know if he has one. He's been so private lately, so unlike him. Spencer blabbers, more than the average person does. Therefore, how hasn't he said anything yet? 

Then, you let out the question. One way to start off your senior year, right? "Does Spencer have a girlfriend?" 

"Reid?" He asks. Such a stupid question, you think. Sunny knows what you don't know, but as he's said before, "you cannot break the bro code." To which you replied, "oh shut up Sunny, I have been your friend for nine years." 

"Tell me," you whisper to him. 

Sunny climbs off of you and sits down in his spot, wariness splattered across his soft face. He clicks his tongue, his head turning and turning from side to side. He wants to tell you, but that stupid bro code he set in fourth grade is still glued to him. You've told him year after year that it doesn't matter anymore because their secrets are spilled to you regardless of the wall built, but he remains thinking what he thinks. 

"Yeah," he says after a second. 

"Who?" you continue with your string of questions. You want to know who your bestfriend is dating, albeit your heart being shattered from the lack of honesty in just a second. 

"Jennifer Jareau." 

Your mouth opens wide, catching one, ten, hundreds of flies. You could never top Jennifer Jareau, even if you tried. You aren't jealous of her taking Spencer, but about how soft and innocent she is. 

She's a Christian, from what you've heard, but everyone has grown out of their "religious stage" after junior year. Maybe Jennifer has changed, turned into some goth girl over the summer where the bright blonde hair of hers is dyed black; her eyes are black, only her blue eyes being the source of color. But even if she didn't change and she remains "Christian girl Jenni," she still has more power than you. 

Jennifer Jareau huh, you think. "She's cool." 

So cool. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

a/n: short chapter. enjoyable? You tell me lovelies:) I love the thought of High School Spence, I hope you guys do too. And yes, Sunny is Kyle Gallner, who I believe was in Heathridge Manor. I am in love with him... Anyways, love you all! 

\- Keyly


	2. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

The birds chirping, warm Virginia air that passes through the closed windows. It's quiet in your house, no one awake, not even Penelope. She tends to wake up early on school days, something about "wanting to send her sister off" everyday.

You open your eyes, blinking cautiously as if something might fall in. You stare at the ceiling, mesmerized at the pictures that are taped to the smooth surface. You're staring at Kurt Cobain's face, who's next to Beethoven. Your mom doesn't enjoy posters being taped to your wall, but you've rebelled against some of her rules and done it anyways.

You extend your arm out to the left- where your nightstand is- and grab your phone, turning it on immediately. 7:00 A.M. You groan loudly, tightening your jaw as you stretch every limb attached to your body. School is on your agenda. First day of Senior year, to be exact.

Penelope told you how it could go either horribly wrong or amazingly right. Derek's told you the same thing... odd for him because he spent his senior year dragging Penelope to parties.

You type in your password and you're greeted with your home screen, which is empty except your basic apps. You open your messages app and click on the small group chat including Sunny and Spencer, empty. No one has messaged the chat and you wonder why because you are supposed to pick them up for school today.

ᴛᴏ: ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴜɴɴʏ

ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏ? ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ ᴘɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ?

You throw your phone to the end of your bed and remove the covers from your body, rolling out with as much energy you can find. You stand for a long minute, staring blankly outside of your window at Derek Morgan, who's dribbling his basketball with no shirt on. If Penelope saw this, she would go absolutely feral. Derek is attractive, insanely attractive, but something about his alpha character ticks you off.

You rub your eyes with your fingers, warming yourself up for the day. No more Derek until it's time for you to go to school. You slump over to your door, twisting the dewy doorknob and stepping out into the hallway. You groggily find the bathroom and enter, closing your eyes tightly and counting down 1, 2, 3 before turning on the light.

"Fuck," you murmur, opening your eyes steadily. You kick the door behind you and turn on the sink, the warm water first, of course. You run your hand under the water, which is a bad idea because your eyes begin to close and your head bobs up and down in an effort to stay up.

Then Penelope bursts into the door, causing you to jolt, your body stilling so quickly. "HAPPY FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL SUGAR CAKES!" she exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug. You squirm under her grasp, but it only makes it worse; her grasp becomes tighter and you cannot breathe.

She shakes you for another moment then let's you go, her pajamas leaving specks of glitter and marks on your skin. "Thanks Pen," you say as you rub your cheek and forehead with your fingers.

"You want pancakes? Parents aren't home, don't know where they went last night," Penelope states, twisting and turning in her uncomfortable pajama set.

You switch the tap to cold, running your hand under the icy water that burns your skin. You cup your hands and fill it with water, bending down and throwing it onto your face. "Yeah, please. I think Sunny is coming over in a bit, just an f-y-i."

"Spencer too?" she asks.

You shrug, pumping face wash into your hand. "Spencer Reid has been weird lately, I don't have a clue." You begin scrubbing the face wash into your skin, making sure to get every crevice.

"Alright, I'll go make funfetti pancakes then!" She steps out and closes the door with her, allowing you to continue with your morning routine.

You wash your face, brush your teeth, use the restroom, everything you must do before getting dressed for the day. You head to your room and close the door behind you, beelining straight to your closet. You have okay clothing on one side, then spectacular, bad bitch status clothing on the other. It's your senior year though and you've already given up on practically everything, so okay clothing it is.

You pull out a black top and a large pair of khaki pants, throwing them over your shoulder. You hear your phone ping and you pace over, picking it up from under the sheets.

"Hello?" you say, pressing the phone to your ear.

"Hey, Y/N I'm uh... don't pick me up today. I have a ride," Spencer notifies, his voice vibrating with guilt.

You raise your eyebrows, sighing quietly when you realize Jennifer has a license and can drive wherever she wants. "Okay, may I ask who it is?"

"JJ."

JJ, so plainly. People call Jennifer JJ now, you suppose. It would fit her better if she didn't seem like such a christian girl; Jennifer fits how she dresses, speaks, looks, everything.

"Y/N?"

"Mhm, yeah I got it. Do you want any breakfast? I saw your schedule, I can give you some pancakes before class." You twiddle with the khaki pant leg, pinching it from frustration at his dishonesty.

"No thanks. We're going to pick some up."

"Alright," you say. You stare up at the ceiling, your head hurting at the straining. You can't look back too far or your head smacks you with some karma. "You know what, Sunny is here, I'll see you at school."

"Bye- by!" Spencer calls out, but you hang up before he's given the chance to say the rest of the syllable. You groan loudly, disappointed at him for not telling you that Jennifer- JJ- is not just a friend, but an entire girlfriend.

Spencer knows not to keep secrets from you, he will combust into shards of glass if he keeps anything in too long. But maybe living with a liar for most of the summer changed him.

You throw your phone back onto the bed and drop your clothes along with it. You look around, locating your laundry bin. It's in the corner of the room, all of the clean clothes scrambled together. You never put your clothes up right when you finish laundry, it's too strenuous for your mind to put up with, so you leave it for another day. And that day has not come. It's been scrambled together in the bin for the past week. 

You ruffle through and grab a bra and a pair of underwear, bawling them up in your hand. You place them on your dresser and begin taking off your pajamas, discarding them amidst the other piled up dirty laundry. You pump lotion into the palm of your hand and rub it onto your skin, moisturizing and laying a shiny layer onto your dull complexion.

You change into your clothing and take socks from the laundry bin and put them on as well, finishing 80% of your look. You told yourself you would stick with the okay look, but the makeup on your desk is tempting and when you look into the mirror, your face tells you to put some on. 

You agree and climb onto your chair, grabbing all of your makeup and huddling them together. You look out of the window at the passing cars and people, one being interestingly familiar. Then the boy looks up at your window and you roll your eyes, knowing what's to come. 

He waves his hands around, trying to grab your attention which is already on him. You stand and open your window, holding it up while you stick your head out. "What?" you shout, louder than you should be at seven in the morning. 

Sunny drops his arms to his sides, catching what you think is breath he wasted running here. He lives around the corner, which is only a two minute walk, but he treats it as if it takes an hour to get here. "I'm hungry!" 

You shake your head, your face contorted into a look of confusion. He shouts and waves his arm as if he's truly in need of something, in danger. "Shut up and just come inside," you reply. He follows your admonishment and begins towards your door, the bell ringing shortly after. He always barges in, but not in the mornings because he fears your parents will shout at him. 

"Come in!" Penelope says in a high register, loud enough for Sunny to hear her. 

He barges in and his voice vibrates the entire house, not deep but not soft and high pitched. You continue on your makeup, grabbing all other essentials. You begin the first couple of steps: priming your face, concealer because fuck foundation, and all of the other products to not make you look dead. You blend everything in then continue to your eyes. You take your eyeliner pencil and mirror and near the small paddle like object, looking carefully at yourself so you won't poke your eye out. 

You finish applying the eyeliner to your waterline and you move on to liquid eyeliner, drawing a line then dragging it down your eyelid. You fill in the gap and let out a long breath, one you hold in while applying liner. You then grab your eyelash curler and mascara and curl your eyelashes, applying the mascara one they're ready. 

You look in the mirror and stare. You were different in past years, but you changed in a way most would look down upon. You've smoked cigarettes before, which were disgusting, then you moved on to weed, then you began drinking every now and then. So many parents out in the world would disown you, kick you to the curb. 

The only thing you have the patience for is reading books; all kinds of them. And not because you like reading to expand your vocabulary, but because it is the only way you can escape the world. It sounds corny when you tell anyone else about it, but it sounds perfectly normal to you. 

You shake your head and climb off of your chair, moving to your closet and grabbing a pair of vans. You slide them on and grab your school back in the back corner of the closet, hidden from sight. You slide the straps onto your arms and walk to the door, almost opening it before you're reminded of perfume. You debate on wearing any or sneaking on some of Penelope's, but you opt on wearing your own. Penelope smells like cotton candy and rainbows, something you do not want to smell like right now. 

You spritz some onto your body and run out, racing down the stairs to the lower level of the house. The smell of pancakes wafts into your nose, the smell so loud it knocks you off balance. You drop your bag by the front door and head to the kitchen where Derek, Sunny and Penelope are sitting at the round table. 

"Good Morning pretty girl," Morgan announces, taking a bite out of the colorful pancakes Penelope made. 

"Hey Derek," you reply, giving him a pursed smile. You glide your hand along the counter and press it on the stack of pancakes, picking one up between your fingers. Penelope hands you a plate and you thank her, placing the pancake on the white porcelain. 

You grab a bottle of water that is on the counter and make your way to the table, picking up a fork on your way there. Sunny pulls out a chair for you and you sit down, giving him a nod as a form of a thank you. Sunny doesn't speak as he eats his food, thankfully. He speaks for so long it's a gift from whoever when he shuts up. 

"There's a party tonight," he states, swallowing his last bite of pancake. 

"Oh yeah?" you respond, taking a small bite of the pancake. You aren't hungry right now. Well, you say you never are, which is half true, but if Penelope were to send you off without eating, she would cry. 

"Mhm," he says. "Aaron Hotchner is throwing it. You have an idea who that is?" 

You push aside your plate, hitting Sunny's arm. He glares at you and pushes the plate back. You roll your eyes and simply push it to the left, leaving it to cool down. 

"Hon, you gotta eat," he whispers, hitting his knee against yours underneath the table. 

You gulp, feeling the shame and guiltiness fill your body. Sunny and Spencer know about what's happened to you through high school, so they don't like seeing you push food away. You tell them you eat a lot when you all smoke and get high, but they still disapprove. 

He continues to look at you, frowning when you don't take back the plate. To change the topic of conversation, you bring in Aaron Hotchner, the smart guy who's in most AP classes and cannot go a grading period without all A's. He's smart but still parties because, "it's a treat to myself." 

"Aaron Hotchner, Hotch. That smart guy ranked right after Spencer. Wears glasses sometimes; black hair; nice smile; ring any bells?" 

"Oh, that ass who wouldn't let me cheat off of him in chemistry?" 

"In sophomore year? If that's who you're referring to then yes." 

He shakes his head, grinning at the reminder of the incident that took place almost two years ago. "Is he still stuck-up? You should know, you banged him right?" 

You step on his foot, earning a high screech from him. You're a virgin, and you will remain a virgin for some time. All you did with Hotch was make out, nothing more. "I kissed him, that's all. Don't make up some bullshit lies because you won't get laid Sunny." 

Penelope comes around and smacks the back of Sunny's head, laying a glass of orange juice in front of him. "Don't say that you little virgin. You and your little trio are made up of virgins who lack confidence." 

"Penelope, I could lose it if I wanted to," Sunny advises, his voice cocky. 

"Mhm," Derek muses, taking his last bite of pancake as well. 

You look at Sunny and you exchange dirty looks, your mouth turned down and your eyebrows scrunched together. His mouth forms into duck lips and he leans into you, but you push him away, your hand now smeared with syrup and orange juice. "Awe does Sunny want a first day of school kiss from me?" 

"Oh please," Sunny jokes, his eyelashes batting as if he's truly desperate. 

You and Sunny share almost the same relationship as Penelope and Derek- flirty but without serious relationship talk involved. You care deeply for one another, but you doubt a relationship will ever form from this friendship. 

"Well too bad, another girl has already claimed her territory," you state, looking down at his covered hickeys. His sister, Tory, must have covered them for him. 

Penelope laughs loudly and Derek enthusiastically drops his glass on the table, turning to check out Sunny's neck. They both huddle next to him, Sunny himself pleading for help. The door rings which happened just on time to leave him miserable. 

You stand and head to the door, looking through the peephole to check who it is. The neighbor who recently moved in. You unlock the door and open it widely, smiling at the tall, hunk of a man bouncing on his feet. 

"Hello," you greet. Awkward, he looks at you happily but his response is delayed. 

"Hi, Y/N right?" he asks. 

"Luke, right?" you respond. 

"Mhm," he says, "I wanted to ask if you could give me, uh, a ride to school? Parents are at work and I don't have a car." 

"Huh, what is it with these guys not having cars?" you tease, laughing at your own joke. 

Luke stares back, trying to catch onto the joke. "Well I came from New York, so. I would ride the subway everywhere." 

"Oh," you nod, your face breaking into an apologetic expression, "sorry."

He shakes his head. "It's alright," he scoffs, his straight top teeth showing through his plump lips. 

You turn your head behind the door, looking past the corner of the hallway that leads into the living room and kitchen. You squint your eyes and catch a glimpse of the time. 8:00 A.M. "Shit," you mumble. "Yeah, let's go." 

You leave the door open, not minding if he sees you rush to grab Sunny and kiss Penelope goodbye. "Gotta' go," you say, hauling Sunny from his chair. You kiss Penelope on the cheek and wave Derek goodbye. You grab your bag by the front door and Sunny does the same, throwing it over his shoulder. 

Luke is standing by the front door, looking up at your house and around every window. It isn't weird or anything, because you would do the same, it's just funny to see him struggle for something to do. 

You dig the keys out of your pocket and stick the correct one into the lock, twisting it and throwing your bag into the backseat. You lower yourself inside of the car and stick the car key into the ignition, turning the car on so you can unlock the car doors. 

"Come one girl, let us in," Sunny groans. 

"It's not even that hot Sun, shut up," you retort, clicking the buttons to unlock the car. They both open their doors and throw their bags inside, sitting down afterwards. 

You grab your seat belt and buckle yourself in, the metal part of the seatbelt hotter than how it feels outside. It's never insanely hot where you live, more moderate, but the inside of your car lights up when the sun is out. 

"So, who's this?" Sunny queries, jutting his chin to Luke. 

"Luke, Alvez. Next door neighbor," you note. You pull the gear shift into drive and release your foot from the brake pedal, switching it to gas. 

"Hey," Luke greets. 

"Sup Luke, I'm Sunny. Y/N's boyfriend." 

You smack Sunny, earning an "ow" from him. "No, he isn't. He's my best friend." 

Luke laughs, shaking his head from what you can see from the mirror. "You guys are friends with Spencer right?" 

You nod slowly, almost embarrassed for saying so. You're in a mood, one from Spencer not being sincere, but it'll go away when he spills his secret. "Yeah, we were friends since first grade then we met Sunny in third grade." 

"Ah, close knit group," Luke says. 

"Mhm," you respond. 

Luke asks no more questions during the entire ride, keeping quiet in the backseat while Sunny plays his daily rock music. You tried putting on some Taylor Swift, somber songs because that's how you feel, but he swiped your hand away when you tried connecting your phone to the aux. 

Territorial Pissings ends when you pull into the student parking lot, specifically in your spot. You park in your designated area and look behind you, making sure Luke is okay. He seems put together. You smile warmly, matching the smile he puts on. 

You turn off the car and stick the keys into your pocket, opening the door and stepping out. Luke steps out and hands you your backpack, your small thank you's being almost inaudible. Sunny steps out and slams the door, something you cannot stand. 

"When my door breaks, you're paying me to get it fixed, got it Hulk?" 

"Mhm, you know I will Y/N," he says. 

"I'm not playing Sunny, I-" Spencer and Jennifer pass your line of vision, so close together they might as well hold hands. Jennifer giggles, pushing her blonde hair behind her ear. You knit your eyebrows, blinking as if in a second it will all disappear. 

"That's who brought him, huh?" Sunny asks rhetorically. 

You sigh, nodding your head. Spencer turns and looks at you, his face turning blank and his eyes dropping to your clenched hands. You have nothing between you, not since freshman year when he admitted he liked you. You liked him back but you did nothing, and those feelings slowly disappeared. Well, for him. You've remained confused throughout the years, but there's always been some part in your heart that hopes something will happen. 

You look behind you and stare right into Luke's eyes, a smirk pulling at your down turned lips. "You wanna go to a party with us tonight?" 

"I'm Mexican," he says. 

"You can't sneak out, if possible?" You hope he says yes, or he himself makes up some plan that involves him being able to tag along. 

"I can say we're going to an SAT prep study group?" he suggests, his shoulder raised and his eyebrows scrunched together confusingly. 

"Alright then, come over at 8:00 so we can... talk?" 

"Got it." Luke begins towards the building and you look at Sunny, your smirk still displayed on your face. 

Sunny leans his head to the side, his face screaming "really?" You just shrug, reaching to him and entwining your arm around his. "He's been an ass, Sunny, I have a reason." 

"He just kept something from you girl, one little secret won't hurt." 

"Surprisingly, it does." 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Y/N, who's that guy you were talking to this morning?" Spencer asks over the phone. 

You unlock the front door, shutting it behind yourself once you've entered. "Luke Alvez, next door neighbor." 

"Your replies are dry," Spencer notes, his voice in pain almost. 

"Uh-huh, is that right?" You place your keys on the dish by the door and kick your shoes off as well, pushing them neatly on the mat. 

"Come on, what is it?" 

"Oh I don't know Spencer Reid, let us ask Jennifer," you push the phone away from your ear, whispering Jennifer as if she were at your house. Then you bring the phone back to your ear, taking in Spencer's sigh. "Jennifer, or shall I say JJ, just informed me that you and her are a couple." 

"I didn't want you to know so soon," Spencer admits, his annoyed sighs filling the call. 

You roll your eyes, huffing at the lie he's just told you. You aren't stupid, you know when someone is lying. "Spencer Reid, you know I'm not stupid right. Sunny fucking told me before you got the chance to. So if it was so soon, why did you tell him?" 

"Are you jealous?" 

"No!" you exclaim, which is not entirely false. You aren't jealous of JJ, just jealous that now she will be taking more of his attention. "I just wanted you to tell me, that's all. You're an ass, you know that Spencer Reid. An ass for not telling your best friend of almost eleven years about your girlfriend." 

"Okay, well can you open the door," he asks. 

"What? You can walk your ass home." You pause, debating your options. You can't keep him out there, he won't go home. "The door is unlocked," you murmur. 

He laughs, opening the door and stumbling inside. You hang up and slide your phone into your pocket, groaning as he wraps his arms around you. He smells like maple syrup, oddly, with a hint of peppermint. No sign of a girly scent. 

"You know I love you," he mumbles against your shoulder, hugging you tightly. 

"I love you too," you whisper. You return the hug, pressing a kiss to his wrinkled button up, one he won't feel because he's not paying mind. 

"So about this party," Spencer begins, unwrapping you from his hold, "who's going?" 

"Sunny, next door neighbor, Delilah, upperclassmen Hotchner knows of." You move to the kitchen, where cupcakes are placed on the kitchen table. You crave one by how tasteful they look, but you refrain yourself. You walk past them and open the refrigerator, grabbing a cold bottle of water. 

"Can I have one?" Spencer questions. 

"Mhm, take as many as you want," you tell him, almost pleading. 

"You don't want one?" 

You close the refrigerator door and return to your original spot, leaning against the counter. "When do I ever?" He lifts one of the cupcakes to your mouth and pushes it closer and closer to your lips. You shake your head and push him away with so much force he moves away himself. "Not hungry, saving my appetite for the party." 

"Don't do that, you have to eat if you plan on drinking," he emphasizes, looking into your eyes. You look to the side, avoiding his puppy dog eyes. "Please?" 

"I have some work to do, I'm going upstairs," you sigh, moving aside and rushing out of the kitchen. You grab your backpack and step up the stairs, looking up so you don't cry from the overwhelming amount of nerves. 

You don't enjoy being pinned down and having someone stick food in front of your face, it stresses you out and makes you want to huddle into a ball. To most, you're sensitive, but to yourself you're rational. 

You enter your room and throw your backpack on the floor, far far from your feet. You lay on your bed, looking up at the Kurt Cobain and Beethoven posters. You swallow the urge to scream and cry and close your eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Spencer comes in and sits at the end of your bed, moving your legs and placing them on his lap. You sit up and swing your legs off of him, positioning them apple-sauce style. He looks at you through the natural light, smiling softly to try and lift your mood. You turn away once again, feeling nauseous every time you look at him. 

He hooks your chin with his index and middle finger, pulling your face to his. You look at him and his sunken eyes, bags under his eyes and honey eyes that glaze over you. "I'm sorry," he whispers. 

"Yeah," you return. 

He pulls you into a hug and you lay your head on his chest, the rough material of his cardigan rubbing against your skin. You feel limp, tired of him switching up at times. The friendship isn't toxic, but sometimes you feel like breaks are necessary. 

But the hug is alleviating and you fall asleep in his arms, your forearms on your thighs while he hugs around them. It all feels great until you're woken up by Sunny bursting through the front door. 

"Yo!" he yells, "it's 8:15 and Alvez has been standing out there like a dumbass." 

"Fuck," you curse, panicking at the Spencer still wrapped around you. Spencer wakes up and jolts from the bed, his arm smacking the side of your face as he stands. 

"Sorry," he whispers. "That was... sorry I'm sorry." 

You straighten up and blink profusely, catching his figure in the sunset. "Yeah, yeah don't worry it's fine." You get up and look down at your clothes, which are the same as the ones you took to school. "Hey, go downstairs and I'll change up." 

"Got it." He flicks on the lights and steps out of the room, his steps growing quieter as he descends the stairs. 

You head straight to your closet and open the doors, looking at the bad bitch side. You ruffle through and find a cheetah print tank top that was designed for your body and your body only. It was found in the clearance rack of Forever 21, but it fits perfectly so maybe it was destined. 

You quickly grab a pair of black ripped mom jeans and throw them on the dresser, quickly undressing yourself. You step out of your khaki pants and throw them to the side, taking your black jeans and sliding them onto your body. You then remove your black shirt and switch it for the cheetah print top, the material loving your body, kissing it in all the right places. 

You grab a random pair of shoes from the bad bitch section of your closet and slide them onto your feet, the shoes surprisingly matching your outfit. You take a glance at yourself in the mirror and check your makeup, which has stayed on fairly well. You shrug and spray yourself with perfume, breathing in the strong scent. 

"Y/N, you ready?" asks Sunny, who's close to the door. 

"Yeah, I'm ready," you reply. You grab your phone from your bed and open the door, meeting eyes with Sunny. His blue eyes illuminate the dark hallway, and you smile. He looks rough, in a good way. He's wearing a leather jacket, white shirt under with black jeans. "Huh, I think the set of The Outsiders is back that way." 

He rolls his eyes jokingly, taking your hand and pulling you out of your room. You follow him down the stairs and Spencer and Luke are looking at you, both with their hands deep in their pockets, their shoulders relaxing when they see you. 

You look normal, they just haven't been introduced to many exemplary bad- bitch women in their lifetime. You step down and push them around, grabbing your keys from the dish. You throw them to Spencer, making him drive to the party instead. 

He catches them swiftly and Sunny pats him on the back, proud that he's finally caught something. Spencer cannot catch for the life of him, so this small act is huge for him. 

You open the door and leave it the way it is, trusting the men behind you to close it. You stand aside and the file out, all three looking like they're your servants of some kind; their steps and movements synchronous. 

You reach your car and wait patiently for Spencer to unlock the car. He comes behind you and unlocks the drivers side door, then the others when he turns the car on. You all lower yourselves inside and strap your seatbelts on, fast and quiet. 

Spencer puts the gear shift into drive and pulls out of the driveway, the drive turning into a concert full of different music tastes. You force them to put on a Taylor Swift song and they do so, but they keep quiet while you sing your heart out. 

The last song is by the Pixies, ending perfectly because Spencer pulls into a tight parking spot in front of Hotch's house. You look at the large house, one he's lived in with his mom and younger brother since his father went away. You remember his house, it's quite nice. 

You step out and close the door, waiting outside with your hands wrapped around your body while the others follow up. The warmth of bodies surrounds you and manly cologne enters your nose, the queue for you to begin walking. 

You can hear the music blasting from the house, the sound of cups clattering on the floor and the laughs of teenagers. You enjoy the sound, it's warming to your body and it reminds you of how out of it you'll be in a short moment. 

You like to be in the correct state of mind 90% of the time, but the other 10% you believe should be you out of it. It's not balanced, and that is okay to you, because if it was 50-50, you would probably be dead right now. 

You reach the door and the vibrations of an early 2000's song course through your hand, shaking your body as you twist the knob. You push yourself inside and the smell of booze and weed smoke surrounds you, making your insides tingle. You shouldn't be happy at the feeling, but you are. 

"Fuck yeah, let's drink," Sunny exclaims, pushing up beside you. 

"Yeah, let's drink." 

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉


	3. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

warnings: mentions an eating disorder.

"How was your first week of senior year?" your mom asks you, handing you the bucket of fried chicken. She doesn't cook, and your father isn't home so you're stuck with fried chicken.

You take the bowl and dig through, finding the smallest piece. There's a small drumstick and you take it out, placing it on your plate. You look up at her, offering a warm smile paired with a nod. "It was eventful I guess."

She smiles, scoffing softly at your dull tone. She takes a bite out of the mashed potatoes and sets her spoon down, standing up and heading to the kitchen. You sit in your chair quietly, feeling yourself lift out of your body then rest itself back inside. You wonder what that is, but you pay no mind to it.

Your mom returns with a small cake, labeled, "Senior Baby." You look at her, giving her an upset look. She'll force you to eat, even if you don't want to. You also look at her confusedly, wondering why she's so nice and preppy and why she's made you and Penelope have a family dinner. "Thanks," you mumble, "but I'm fine."

She shakes her head, her face contorting into the face you know so well. Her eyes have gone black, upset with you and what you've told her. "What? Come on, eat some."

You push the plate away, turning your head from her. You look at Penelope, who's stuck in her chair, looking right back at you with a scared expression splattered across her face. She has no idea what to do either. You flick your eyes back to your mother and stare her straight in her eyes, pleading for her to move away.

She grabs the fork next to her and sticks it in the cake, taking a chunk out of the desert. She forcingly opens your mouth and shoves it in, fighting against your swinging arms and chomping of teeth. "Swallow," she says nicely.

"No," you gargle.

"Swallow, darling," she repeats.

You swallow the cake and look into her eyes, your jaw trembling. You feel instant regret, hatred for yourself. You try to reach into her, grab the kindness she once had and pull it out, smothering her in it.

"I love you sweetheart," she whispers, laying a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you too," you return. "May I be excused?"

She removes herself from your bubble and takes the fork and plate of food away, holding it in hand. "Yes, you may."

You jolt out of your chair and head to your room, quietly in case she thinks you have an attitude. You close the door behind you and grab your phone, opening it and tapping on the calls app. You press on Spencer's contact and the dialing screen pops up, the sound of ringing sounding louder than you thought.

You bring the phone to your ear anxiously, whispering "come on," after every second he didn't reply. "Spencer please," you whisper, the overwhelming tears rolling in.

The ringing pauses and Spencer picks up, his short breaths before speaking relaxing you. "Hello?"

Your tears flood in, swallowing you down into its depths. You choke on your words, being caught in the anger that rushes through you like fire set to a line of gas. "She's killing me," you pant. "She's fucking excruciatingly annoying."

"What? Are you- I'm picking you up right now, stay there," he says, the sound of his bed sheets rustling and his shoes slapping against the floor.

"I'm okay Spencer I just need to talk to you." You wipe away your warm tears with the back of your hand, trying to straighten yourself up so Spencer won't worry. You've caused a scene and all of the "she's killing me" was unnecessary. You're fine, you're fine.

"No," he retorts, "you're crying, you're not okay. I'll pick you up in three minutes and forty one seconds, got it?"

You laugh through your tears, nodding at his exactness. Spencer Reid is a smart one; Spencer was given the opportunity to skip some grades and graduate as early as twelve years old, which sounds crazy however it's true, but he rejected it for you and Sunny. He tries his best not to make you both feel dumb, but all fails because he says things like that.

"I'll see you in a few, okay?" he continues, keeping you on the line.

"Okay, I'm sorry," you whisper.

"Don't fucking say that, you didn't do anything wrong," he admonishes. Spencer Reid sounds funny when he curses, it tumbles out of his mouth as if it's accidental, like he's not allowed to curse at home.

He says he necessarily can't, but he does anyways because, "my mom doesn't know, and if she does, she won't remember." Which ticks you off because in order to cope with his mom having schizophrenia, he uses dark humor. Sometimes it's funny but other times you sit and stare.

"I am sorry though, for bothering you. I always do this," you cry, rubbing your eyebrows with your thumb and middle finger. 

"I don't care if I'm taking a shower and you call me like this, I will get out with shampoo in my hair and pick you up," he says bluntly. The sound of a car turning on rings through the phone, along with the sound of tires running over gravel. 

"Well I want to be fucked up when you do so just let me take something real quick," you reply softly, moving towards your dresser. 

"Hon don't get high, it doesn't make the crying experience any fun," Spencer tells you, a laugh breaking his voice. 

Your lips pull into a smirk, your cheeks turning a light shade of red due to how horrible the joke is. "Right, but it makes life a little more fun," you debate. You kneel down and open the last drawer, riffling through old articles of clothing and journals from years ago. 

"How much are you taking? Don't make it a thousand milligrams in one of those stupid gummies you buy," he pleads, "you'll die." 

You roll your eyes, finding the small packet of gummies you bought from the dealers on your street. "If they kill you, why do people sell them?" Now you aren't crying, but you remain distressed. You know taking this will only wash you away for a couple of hours, but then you will snap back into reality. 

"I don't know, Y/N, because they want to kill you?" Spencer retorts sarcastically.

You open the small packet and dump the contents onto your hand, balancing your phone on your shoulder between your ear. You stare at them, debating whether you should take them or not. You take in a long breath, keeping it in for five seconds. You exhale, then bring the gummies to your mouth, dumping them inside and chewing them rapidly. 

"You took them?" Spencer questions. 

"Mhm," you respond. 

His hand hits the steering wheel, his frustration being let out by a loud sigh. Spencer smokes at times, but he rejects it 85% of the time because he likes to "watch you and Sunny," in case you both do anything horribly embarrassing. Sunny can take care of himself, he's Sunny. But you, your emotions take a toll on you and you can either be really angry or extremely emotional. You are also more blunt than you normally are, so whatever comes to mind, you spill it. 

"What?" you scoff, standing up and grabbing your go-bag from beside your dresser. In case Spencer asks you to stay at his house. "You're acting like I'll die or something." 

"I don't like it when you get high, it strips away all of your pretty girl-ness." 

"Watch it, you can't call me that anymore," you notify him, grabbing your large water bottle from your desk and the C.D. you made for you and Spencer- filled with all of your favorite songs. 

Spencer laughs, all anger flooding out of his body. "Come out, pretty girl." 

"Alright, bye," you hum, removing your phone from your ear and hanging up. You slide your phone into your back pocket and slug towards the door, taking in another deep breath before opening the door. You want to run down the stairs and out of the door, not seeing either your mom or Penelope; especially Penelope, it'll break your heart. 

You make a beeline down the stairs and to the door, thanking whoever is listening for making them end by the front door. You grab your keys from the key dish and open the door, closing it right as your mom shouts your name. 

You stare straight ahead, smiling softly when you see Spencer's car. You jog up to it and open the door, throwing your bag on the floor and lowering yourself inside. You close the door and Spencer begins driving off, passing by Luke's house. 

You roll down the window, staring straight at the muscular man lift weights in his garage. He looks pretty hot. You've noticed how many of the guys this year have been plenty attractive and you wonder where it all came from. Particularly Luke Alvez. He's from New York, and all of the guys from New York that have moved to Virginia have been rather attractive. Most. 

You wave at him, but he's busy working out to notice. You sigh and close the window, looking out onto the sky which is painted in orange and pink, purple mixed in. "Alvez guy is pretty cute, huh?" 

"You like him?" Spencer asks, his voice full of curiosity, desperate for an answer. 

"Do you like him?" you reply. You wait a second, but no response is made. "He's just cute, that's all. Plus, he's cool; you should've seen him take like, a thousand shots of Patron back to back." 

"I was there, and it was only four, Y/N, not a thousand." 

You lift your feet up and lay them on the dashboard, your hand moving to recline the seat. Once you've found a comfortable position, you turn your head towards Spencer, sketching his jawline and small nose. "You're just jealous," you whisper, already feeling the gummies take a toll on you. 

Your body prickles, vibrates in a way. That is the only way you can describe the feeling of marijuana on your body (THC, if you're reading from the package). You began smoking and trying edibles in Sophomore year, then you had to take a break, then started up again in the summer. You try to stay away because it is no way of fixing your life issues, but it's fun to block it from your mind for a moment. 

"Pfft, I can drink and workout to get all hunk like him, I just don't for my well-being." 

"Who said working out is bad, Spencer Reid?" you tease, laughing at your unfunny joke. 

"Oh god," he mumbles, looking at you with concern and a hint of sympathy in his eyes. You reach your hand to his hair and begin running your hands through it, messing it up. He has boyband hair, so it already is messy. "Stop," he says, grabbing your wrist and pushing it down carefully. 

"Have you ever thought about bleaching it? For senior pictures or something," you suggest, smiling when he looks back down at you, a grin pulling at his lips as well. 

"You want to bleach my hair? I'll look like PonyBoy if you do," he replies, swiping his tongue across his lips. 

"Oh come on, PonyBoy was hot," you giggle. 

"Watch it," he jokes. 

You roll your eyes, your words jumbling in your mind, not allowing you to think straight. You become more bold in these times, and as much as you tell yourself not to say anything unnecessary, you can't hold back. "Like Jennifer has anything on me." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Christian girl that's probably never had a drink in her life, oh hell yeah." 

Spencer keeps quiet, the shake of his head being the only response. He continues driving on the road, the sound of cars passing by and the music inside of them being the only sound in your ears. He lowers the windows down and you lean your head on the small peeping of it, the air ghosting over your skin. 

It feels nice, relaxing to not remember what just passed you or what just came to mind. You feel the world delay every time you lift a limb, close your eyes or blink, but it gives an effect you crave every once in a while. 

Spencer pulls into a small, gravelly round pathway. It's a small park yet all of the equipment is ripped away, only leaving patchy grass in the center of healthy green grass. He turns off the car and takes the keys out of the ignition, holding them in hand as he grabs two blankets from the backseat. 

You open the car door and step out, losing balance a bit. You close the door and lean on the car, waiting for Spencer to come around and direct you to a spot. He finds his way in front of you, blankets in hand along with his small radio. He juts his chin to a spot and you follow him, taking slow steps so you won't trip over any rocks. 

Spencer lays a blanket on a green patch of grass and places the other bawled up blanket on top of it, securing it to the ground. He holds onto your arm as you sit down, keeping you balanced. You whisper a thank you and he nods, himself sitting down once he sees you've settled. 

He sets the radio in front of him, turning it on and switching it to your favorite station, the classical music station. "You like it?" he asks. 

You nod, offering a warm smile to match his. "Do you?" 

"Yes." 

"Good," you reply in a low register. You avert your gaze to the surrounding area, the small hill appearing much higher than you thought when you parked. It scares you, but you try to keep your eyes glued to the sky. 

The patches of yellow and orange are now hidden by the pink and purple, the dark blue coming in fast. You sigh, wondering what made Spencer bring you here when he could have taken you to his house. But you also look back at him and his eyes are stuck on you. He doesn't look at Jennifer that way, ever. They trade glances at one another but they never appear to be a happy couple. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, leaning his head to the side. 

You shake your head, your movements so delayed you wonder how you're still up and running. You would be knocked out or eat every food you find in the pantry. "I can't even think of one thing only. It's too much." 

He laughs, the sight of disappointment and some form of humor expressed on his face. He begins moving in and takes hold of your hand, his soft fingers running along your skin. "I told you it's not good to take that stuff more than two times a week." 

"I haven't done it at all this week, I've been too busy with schoolwork," you defy, scoffing. 

"But you've drank until you blacked out. It's still bad, Y/N," he adds. 

"Well I'm sorry I haven't been in the right state of mind this week," you continue, becoming frustrated with the overwhelming amount of persistence in questions. Spencer Reid enjoys budging you until you spill every secret in your body. 

"And why is that?" 

"Too many boys, I'm going insane," you tease, taking your hand from his grasp. You entwine your fingers together in front of yourself, mixing together the touch of Spencer's finger tips. 

"You could always talk to JJ, you know. She isn't as evil as you think she is," he murmurs. 

You swallow the shame that's rising in your throat, cursing yourself to not give up everything you've been thinking. You don't have an issue with Jennifer, she's nice and can probably pray over every issue you have, but something about her being with Spencer bothers you. You keep telling yourself it is because Spencer has dedicated his time to you and Sunny, but your stomach butterflies tell you something else. 

No more hugging Spencer Reid or allowing him to call you all of the flirty names in the book without your stomach flipping upside down. You can look him in the eye, but for no longer than forty five seconds or else you begin seeing every event leading to the future... a future with him. You've always seen a future with him though, and Sunny. So this must be a form of your protectiveness in friendships, right? 

Of course it is. 

"Yeah, I'll talk to her," you lie. You may talk to her, but promise to be her best friend and tell her about all of the boy crushes you have and who you would smash or pass won't happen. She isn't automatically your friend simply because she is dating Spencer Reid, it doesn't work that way. 

"Come here," he murmurs, moving in closer and closer until his hands wrap around your body, hugging you tightly. You mumble against his chest, struggling to reply to the act. You enjoy the warmth of his body, despite wondering if this is even okay to be doing. 

You don't enjoy Jennifer and Spencer as a couple, but disrespecting her by being so intimate with him is not what you want to do. You're respectful. "Should we be doing this?" you question, your voice projecting as innocent. You don't want him to say no because you'll feel instant shame and regret for every word he's spoken to you that isn't a simple "hello, how are you doing?... okay bye" conversation. 

"I hope we can, all I'm doing is hugging you," he replies. He hugs you tighter, leaning his pointy chin on the top of your head. His scent wafts into your nose and blocks even more thoughts from processing in your mind. 

You lay like that for what feels like forever, inhaling and exhaling until you feel at ease. The world doesn't slow down as it was before and you are able to process some more thoughts at a time. The marijuana is still in full effect, but you aren't high-high as you were forty minutes ago. 

The sky turns dark blue, taking every source of light and dimming it. You bring your hand to your lap and fiddle with your fingernails, then move on to the hem of Spencer's shirt. There is a small thread hanging and you cannot stand the sight of it. 

You pull but it doesn't budge, leaving you frustrated. "What?" Spencer laughs, moving away from the hug. He peers down at you, laughing even more when he sees you pulling at the string. "Don't do that, you're going to unravel my entire shirt." 

"Like that would happen," you mutter. You look up and meet his awfully dark eyes, which are usually warm and sweet like honey. They still remain sweet, but they're dark, appearing more like chocolate. You flick your eyes down to his nose, then his lips, which are swiped by his tongue. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, one that will kill you if you let it build and build. You would rather keep to yourself, but he is tempting. You have many questions for him to answer; they all stack on top of one another until the one at the tippy top rides the elevator to your tongue. 

"How long have you been dating Jennifer?" 

"Since late June... the twenty-third."

You feel a sharp pain in your heart, betrayal. Wow, it hurt more than enjoyable. Sometimes heartbreak is pleasurable in some way- knowing you will never be with that person- but this pain isn't so satisfactory. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes glued to yours. 

You bite down on your lip, the next question riding the elevator to the tip of your tongue. Again, not enjoyed nor asked for, all happening against your will. "Why are you dating her? If I may ask." 

He takes in a deep breath, one full of worry. "She isn't you," he says after a short silence. 

"What do you mean by that?" You pull away, inspecting him. You blink steadily, keeping your focus on him. 

In most cases, people would say, "she isn't you," in a good way, but not now. How different is she? You think to yourself, because the question lingers in your head and you want him to spill every detail about her so you can finally understand. What is so special about her? In the best way possible, due to the question being so passive aggressive. 

"I don't think about you anymore. You don't sit up there every minute of every day looking all pretty like you do. JJ's taken over."

The end of his statement seeps nothing but lies. The beginning is overpowered with emotion and desperation that it drains away the last bit. He knows Jennifer hasn't taken over his mind, he is only saying it so he can somehow trick himself into believing it. 

You pause, registering and processing what he's said. You sit and stare at his Queens shirt, poking at the faces on the black tee. The conversation remains in the front of your mind, not being able to be thrown to the back where all of the disregarded memories lie. 

You then look up at him, staring right at his lips which have been licked once more. An urge to kiss him slaps you across your face, but the reminder of Spencer's relationship status punches you in the stomach, right where it hurts. 

Yet, you ask a question you know will break you further. "What would you do if I kissed you?" 

"You're not fully here." 

"Would you do it if I was fully here?" 

He pauses, as if he's thinking about it. "No," he breaks the ice. His phone rings and it breaks the unbearable moment, causing him to move back and take his phone out of his pocket, picking up the phone call. "H- Hey JJ." 

You tilt your head up to the sky, counting every star that shoots past your line of vision and every star that stays still in the dark space. You listen closely to the conversation they're having, full of Jennifer shouting through the line. You giggle, but stop yourself in case it gets out of control. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it tonight... yeah I know- I know JJ I've just been busy taking care of some things," he tells Jennifer sighing between every sentence. "Okay I know and I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you... What? No I- Okay, yeah I'll see you Monday. Bye." 

Spencer puts his phone back into his pocket and you return your focus to the distressed male in front of you, his eyes glassy under the moon. "What happened?" 

"I missed her soccer game," he tells you. 

"Oh shit." Your heart cracks more than it should. You feel bad for causing Spencer to miss Jennifer's game. You should have been more considerate of his plans. "Go, go see her. I should have asked what you had to do." 

He shakes his head, his actions defiant. "No, it's okay. JJ has more games I can go watch, I've only missed this one. It's okay." 

You begin to grow paranoid. Jennifer might know he's been hanging out with you, she isn't stupid. She has A's in almost every class and she's a girl- girls know everything before they happen. "Oh god, you know I should have been more- I should have asked you about what you had to do." 

Spencer reaches out to you, trying to get a hold of you. You reject his touch, but he tries again and grips your arm. "It's okay, stop it. Come on, I'll take you to my place, you need sleep." 

You shake your head, not wanting to go to his house to make the guilt turn into a bigger issue than it already is. "No. Can you just take me to Sunny's?" 

He leans back, almost offended at what you asked him. "You never go to Sunny's, ever." 

"Look, Spencer, I can't go to your house and sleep over. That's fucking wrong." 

"Who said we were doing anything?" He stands up and pulls you up with him, grabbing the blanket from the ground, forgetting about the extra blanket and radio. "You know we've had sleepovers even when Maeve and I were dating, right? What you're saying is just..." 

"Okay but Maeve was different, she understood." You turn over and pick up the radio from the ground, picking up the batteries that fell out. 

"How is it any different? Because you're jealous? You need to cut that shit out, Y/N," Spencer admonishes. "It's not good to be envious of another's relationship." 

You let out a sarcastic laugh, angry at what's slipping past his mouth. "You... You're funny. You're the one that's jealous, Spencer Reid. Y- You got all mad when I made out with Aaron. 'Did he touch you?' 'Did he try anything?' Like come on Spencer, what kind of questions are those?" 

Unbelievable, he probably thinks by the way his jaw is locked and his eyes are wide open. "I wanted to know if he did anything, Y/N, for your well being. I am not obsessed with you like you think I am, okay?" He closes his eyes for a second, then shakes his head as if he's stupid for even continuing the argument. "Look, I am not arguing with you right now, just get in the car. If you wanna go to Sunny's, I'll take you to goddamn Sunny's." 

He turns and moves to the car, taking his keys out of his pocket before pressing the button on the remote. He throws the blankets and radio in the backseat and unlocks the doors, waiting for you to come. You stare at him for a moment, to see if the redness in his face has drained from his face. 

It seems to, but it's dark outside so all you have to aid you is the sliver of moonlight. You go to the car and open the door, lowering yourself inside. You buckle your seatbelt and lean your head on the window, your tears and sniffles rolling in. 

You sniffle and Spencer turns to you, a sucking of teeth causing you more pain. "Aw, no please don't cry. I'm sorry," he breathes, patting your thigh with his hand. 

"Can we just go, please? I wanna sleep in a bed," you respond, your voice dull, flat. 

You wish the edible had more of an effect on you, but you've gotten so accustomed to the side effects that no matter how many milligrams you take, you're still somewhat aware of your surroundings. 

Spencer pulls out of the parking area and drives onto the road, the sound of changing stations echoing in the car until it stops on the same classical station that was on the radio. You don't look at him because you want to feel as guilty as possible, but it already begins to wash away from your system. 

You remain silent the entire ride though, because if you speak, you'll say all too much in a small amount of time. You see him turning into a store parking lot after thirty minutes, parking in a spot in front of the convenience store. You wipe away any left over tears and turn your head to him. You furrow your brows, your expression itself asking "where are you going?"

"I'll be right back, stay here." He locks the doors before stepping out, giving you the keys as well. He disappears into the store and you slump in your seat, wondering what the hell he's buying. You are hungry, but him buying you food will bring any love you had for him back. 

You listen to the radio, sitting through the commercials of dog leashes, chiropractors, people selling records, all lasting ten minutes. You hate that about less popular radio stations, they always have long commercial breaks where you could run a mile and come back to the same commercial. 

The break is finally over, and Spencer comes back, holding three bags of food. You can tell what's inside and your body jumps, becoming giddy at all of the groceries. You unlock the door for him and he lowers himself inside, handing you the bags carefully. 

"I am not feeding your disorder, okay? But you haven't been eating and something with low calories is a start, right?" 

"It could be either the beginning to rock bottom or the beginning to being healthy again," you tell him, picking the box of fruit popsicles that hold only a couple of calories. You dig through, finding the rice cakes, sea salt popcorn, flavored sparkling water, fiber bars, all of it. It's soothing, him attempting to help you. 

You open the box of popsicles and look at them closely, picking the one that appears to be raspberry and ripping it out of its package. You stick the popsicle into your mouth and look at him, softly smiling.

His face does not match yours, it's more concerned and droopy. "Do you still want to go to Sunny's?" 

You shake your head, declining mutely. He nods and starts the car, reversing out of the parking spot once he sees your situated. He drives out of the parking spot and heads onto the road, driving out the last ten minutes to his house. 

The ten minutes go by quickly, his house being in front of your eyes in a flash. He turns off the car and takes the bag from your feet, holding them all in the hook of his index finger. You grab your bag from the floor and slide it onto your arm, opening the door and shutting it behind yourself when you're out. 

"Your go-bag?" he scoffs, his bright-white smile shining in the dark September night. 

"Yeah, I kinda had a feeling," you reply. 

Spencer minces to the door, careful to not wake anyone. You wait behind him as he unlocks the door, pushing it wide open and stepping in, holding it for you to enter. He closes it when you're inside and locks it, placing his keys in the rack by the front door. 

You look around the small house, looking at all of the pictures of Spencer and his mom, none of his father though. Diana loves Spencer's father, but drifts in and out of that feeling. 

"Come on," Spencer whispers, catching your attention. You follow him down the hall to his room, the house cozy to be in. He opens the door and you walk in, dropping your bag on his king sized bed he sleeps in all by himself. 

Spencer walks out with the bags in hand, taking them to the kitchen you presume. You take the time to undress yourself, taking the night clothes from your bag and pulling them onto your body. You stuff your other pieces of clothing back into your bag and push it off of his bed, emitting a small thumping noise. 

You crawl onto his bed and under the sheets, feeling the coolness of the mattress take over your feet, then your calves and thighs and the rest of your body. 

Spencer walks back in and smiles, looking at you cuddled in his bed with the sheets on your chin. "I'm gonna go change," he notes, opening his drawers and taking out a shirt and a pair of sweats from the drawer underneath. 

While he changes in his bathroom, you stare up at the ceiling, watching your day take its course as though it's a movie. It all went so wrong, so so fast. You want more control in your life, more peace and understanding, but it has become so difficult to attain that. 

You want love, too, but not in the way people think. You may need others to love you, but you want love so you can love others. Enjoy the presence of those around you because in order to attain peace, you must at least try to love everyone. 

Even Jennifer Jareau. You'll never love love her, but maybe love.

One day, if she shows to be worthy. 

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉


	4. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

warnings: mentions of harassment. (short chapter because next one will be JUICY). 

"Stop staring, she's not going anywhere," Sunny says, grabbing a carton of milk from the cooler.

You keep finding yourself staring at Jennifer, eyeing her in English and math. How she hangs around all of the Christian girls who everyone thinks are nice, when in reality they are true bitches; ones that act mean but think they can make up for it by going to church every day.

Sunny grabs his tray and lifts it from the counter, typing in his code on the small pad and waving the lunch lady goodbye. You follow him to the table, which is to the far back of the cafeteria.

"I'll bet you fifteen dollars they won't last until valentine's day." You look up at him for an answer-some form of approval- but all his face does is scrunch up.

"Reid is my friend too you know," Sunny admonishes. He pauses for a moment, looking at them sitting a few inches apart at the round lunch table. "Okay you know what maybe they won't last."

Your lips pull into a sly smile, your stomach turning but your mind pushing the feeling away. "And she has a purity ring too. You do know what that means right?"

Sunny stops in his tracks and looks at you, then at Jennifer then back at you. "She has a fucking purity ring?!"

You nod aggressively, excited that he's on the same level as you. "Yes she has a goddamn purity ring. Which means she's still a virgin. And you know, I don't even think they've kissed yet."

Sunny nudges your arm, laughing while you both flick your gaze back at the couple. "She probably saves room for Jesus when they're together," he teases.

You let out a laugh, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. Sunny awfully hides his laugh, his tongue swiping across his lips and poking at the inside of his cheek in an effort.

You begin walking, Sunny continuing next to you. "You know, they look more like friends than they do boyfriend and girlfriend. She looks like the kind of girl to like Will LaMontagne," you note.

"That Louisiana guy? He would probably take her to Mardi Gras for vacation," he continues to tease.

You slap his arm, scoffing sarcastically. "Don't you remember, she's Christian. God Sunny you're so forgetful."

"You idiot, Mardi Gras is a Christian celebration," he notes, looking at you with such disappointment.

You hit one another and tease the relationship until you get to the table, dimming your laughter so Spencer Reid won't suspect anything. But from the holdup you caused in the middle of the cafeteria, he's probably aware.

Sunny places his tray on the table, throwing his backpack onto the floor before sitting in his seat. You look at them and then to Sunny, smiling at one another in the most secretive way you can think of.

"What?" Spencer asks, taking a tater tot and throwing it into his mouth.

You purse your lips and shake your head, "nothing. You guys just look really cute together. Me and Sunny are trying to work things out y'know."

Sunny tags along to the joke, wrapping his arm around you and planting a kiss on your head. "Oh yeah, go to bible studies on Wednesday's and every church service on Sunday's. The whole happy Christian couple thing."

Spencer kicks both of your legs under the table, earning groans from both you and Sunny. "Sorry," he says, looking at Jennifer. "They can be very disrespectful sometimes."

She nods, looking at you and Sunny with slight discomfort. You switch glances and decide to start a conversation, or else the air will become so suffocating that every one of you will die. "So, Jennifer." 

"JJ." 

You stare at her, giving her a nod because any other reaction would be disrespectful. "Right, I'm sorry. JJ, what are you guys doing today? Since you know..." 

She smiles, looking at Spencer with a warm smile. "Spencer offered to go on a picnic with me at this little park forty minutes away." 

Your eyes drop to the table and you cough, the rage filling every crevice of air that sneaks past your lips. "That's nice, I uh- I hope you guys have a fun time." 

"Thank you," she smiles. She's about to speak when Luke joins you at the table, sitting next to you. She looks him up and down and looks away, back to you. The glare seems rude, as if she doesn't enjoy his presence. "So, Y/N, I heard you and Aaron have this little thing." 

You sigh, taking your hands and sticking them under the table, beginning to pick at your cuticles. Sunny notices and takes your hands, cupping them tightly with his large hand. You scoff, taking a second to reply. "Most people here have made up some bullshit rumor about me having a fling with a guy." 

She leans her elbows on the table, her face inching closer to you. "Why?" 

Such a stupid question, you think. You have been around guys for most of your life, having Penelope as one of the only sources of femininity. You would like to be friends with more girls, because to be quite honest, you do need a break from men, but everyone in senior year has found their group and is not planning on making a temporary friend. 

"I don't know actually," you respond. You want to leave in the moment, escape from any further questions she might have. She's a snobby girl, very much, but everyone lets her pass because she looks innocent, like an angel. But you know she is far from that.

You think about getting up, but with your hands practically tied together and everyone looking at you, it would look like some corny high school movie where a girl is humiliated and goes to cry in the restroom. It all happens in your head, and you cringe. No way to escape your problems. 

So you stay and deal with the racing of your heart and the urge to smack her for asking questions she knows the answers to. Spencer pulls her back and whispers something in her ear, causing her posture to straighten and her face to fall. You look at her, comparing yourself to her in almost every way. 

She gets up and takes her backpack with her, giving a curt nod. You see her leave back to her table where everyone looks the absolute same. She's apart of the soccer team and that group has been known for being secretive, as well as the source for about every rumor. That's one way they all look the same; their secrets stretching their heads and pulling all of their features back. They hold so much inside that it becomes noticeable. 

"So that Halloween dance in a couple of weeks, who's going?" You decide to switch the topic, or else everyone will continue staring at one another distraughtly. 

"If I tell my parents now I think they would let me go," Luke notes, taking a long sip of his orange juice. "But they've become more lenient so maybe I can ask a little later." 

"It's the twenty-third, Alvez. Halloween is a month and a week away," Sunny advises, looking at him with confusion lacing his features. 

Luke nods slowly, dropping his empty orange juice bottle next to his tray. "Yeah, I think they announced the dance now for students in my situation." 

"Like Strauss cares," Spencer retorts. "She probably told us so she can announce a fundraiser to fund it." 

"God, I hate that woman," you whisper, everyone at the table switching their glances to you. 

Luke's eyebrows knit together and Sunny and Spencer reply, both in sync. "She has a bad history with Strauss."

"Yeah, she sucks. I mean, that's the reason a lot of students here have straight A's, because then they don't have to sit with her and listen to her say: "this is not the way to go if you want to go to college"." 

"Did she tell you that?" Luke asks, picking up a tater tot and pushing it into his mouth. 

You shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself as you recollect the memories from your freshman year. "No. In simple terms, she told me to fuck off after I told her some guy was harassing me. Come to find out it was her nephew or something." 

"She had to talk to Rossi after; the actual principal. He dealt with it," Sunny adds on, tightening the hold of your hands. 

"You know, girls and guys were still rude after it though. It wasn't all that bad in the beginning," you admit, flicking your eyes to Luke's, whose eyes are sad, sympathetic for your case. He's pleading for you to continue although the story is unworthy to tell. "Somehow the girls soccer team found out and they scared the hell out of me." 

"Okay well um, we don't have to continue, it's too much to talk about," Sunny budges, nudging your shoulder with his. "The girls are assholes and look at them now, all trying to forgive for their sins." 

"Wait, who scared you? What did they do?" Spencer asks, his voice filled with terror. He isn't aware of being told this information, but you certainly do. He was out of it though and wasn't accustomed to being high, so you don't blame him for not remembering. 

"Reid, shut up," Sunny admonishes. 

"That group of girls," you look at the table full of soccer girls, except Jennifer is nowhere to be seen. You look back at Spencer and his eyes remain on yours, so you continue without referring to them with your eyes. "The senior girls that a part of that soccer team plus a couple of girls that were seniors when we were freshman." 

"So..." Spencer leans forward in his seat, curious about the secrets you have to tell. 

"Yeah. I guess all of them are fucked up some way," you say. You pause, then realize you're speaking of Jennifer as well. "Sorry," you whisper. 

He takes a look around and decides to not ask further questions. A small audience, but an audience nonetheless. "Don't say sorry," he says almost embarrassingly. 

Sunny pushes his plate aside and lets go of your hands, grabbing his backpack from the floor. "Okay, well me and pretty girl here are going to go take a lap around the school. We'll see you" he points at Luke next to you, "after school. Y/N's basement. I have my guitar in my locker." 

He nods silently. Sunny grabs his tray and you stand up, waving the boys at the table a goodbye. You grab the straps of your bag and pace behind Sunny, who's headed to the lunch line. He discards the untouched food in the trash can and places the tray on top of the other, turning to you when he's done. 

He exits the doors of the cafeteria and you finally walk beside him, your eyes glued to every corner of the hallways. Teachers don't care whether you're where you're supposed to be or not, but if you see Strauss out of her habitat, it's all hell loose. 

"You notice how JJ wasn't there?" you question, looking to Sunny for an answer. 

"Using her preferred name now?" 

You roll your eyes, annoyed at where the conversation is trying to be turned. "Yeah, but that's not the point. Did you see how she just disappeared?" You turn right into the freshman hallway and pass by some students, giving them a soft smile. 

"I wasn't even looking, weird girl," he replies, being blunt. "You think that blonde girl is taking up space in my head?" 

"Well she wasn't there and I saw her go to her table," you tell him eagerly. You might be going insane. Too focused on her to the point where all you think about is JJ, JJ, JJ and it's rather exasperating. It is killing you but you can't stop thinking about how perfect she is (looks, that is). 

"I just think you should just give it a rest. We both know this isn't going to last, and maybe we're fucked up for thinking that, but let's just let it fall into place," Sunny counters, breaking the news that you are definitely obsessed with her, just not in a blunt manner. 

"Fine, but I don't think we should let him date her when she's shown herself to be unworthy of him," you add, trying to not come off as clingy, the "best friend who wants her boyfriends all to herself." You don't mind your friends going out and dating people, that's not what worries you, it's the fact that not everyone is who they show to the world. 

"I promise you, Reid isn't that stupid," Sunny notes. 

You turn the corner, eyeing someone with another someone. You immediately push Sunny back against the wall behind you, your movements frantic. You take a look around the corner once more, making sure it's the person you think it is. 

And it is. Miss Jennifer Jareau with a special football player. 

"Holy shit," you whisper, turning away and staring straight at Sunny with your widened eyes. 

"What?" 

"Jennifer just proved herself more unworthy," you state. And if it couldn't be worse, your phone vibrates. You grab the device from your back pocket and look at the screen, your face dropping at the sight of Spencer's contact.

ꜰʀᴏᴍ: ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ  
ᴄᴀɴ ᴡᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ? ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇʀ. 

Amazing.

ꜰʀᴏᴍ: ʏ/ɴ  
ʏᴇᴀʜ, ɴᴏ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ.

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉


	5. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ

warnings: mentions of an eating disorder, blood. (xtra long chapter.)

Keeping secrets, especially from someone you have a close bond with, hurts like hell.

It especially hurts when you're hurting yourself in the process as well. You always hurt when telling a lie to someone important, but this time you were keeping a secret that was holding back your relationship status.

You indeed kept the secret from Spencer Reid, it was all you could do. Well, what you thought was best for you to do. You were jealous and Spencer could tell you were, therefore telling him would only make him suspect you were lying to keep him for yourself.

It was half wrong. Your eyes didn't deceive you, you took glanced upon glances until you saw them practically sticking their tongues into each other's faces. It was awful to look at so you walked to class and kept your mouth shut until you spoke to Spencer.

The conversation was made up of a simple apology for Spencer Reid not knowing what Jennifer was a part of. He said, "I don't want to say 'why didn't you tell me' because that's stupid. I just want to say that I'm sorry and if you want me to break up with her, I will."

You told him: "No, don't do that. She apologized, it's fine." Jennifer never apologized, ever. No one apologized, but you shrugged it off because if you asked for an apology, they would laugh and pile another rumor onto your back.

He wouldn't take your request, it was almost like he wanted you to tell him to break up with Jennifer. And you almost wanted to tell him that, but you let him do it on his own. He didn't, which was a disappointment, but he must have fixed things with her.

Now, it is past their four month anniversary and it's becoming worse and worse to look at them together. Jennifer doesn't deserve Spencer Reid, he may not be the right build or he might talk too much about topics that don't seem "interesting", but you don't see how that's an issue. It's adorable.

And to be quite honest, all you're waiting for is something to go horribly wrong. For Jennifer to mess up and be found mouth on mouth with her secret football boyfriend. The scene plays in your head constantly and you sometimes find yourself wanting to purposefully show Spencer. They're always in the same spot at the same time every single day, so it would be easy to catch them.

You seem evil, you know you do, but telling him now, after a month, is worse. You've killed yourself already and now you're just digging your grave. So so deep.

"Play the song again, I like how you play," you tell Sunny, leaning over on the couch.

"Starting to get tired of playing Sex on Fire girl, pick another damn song," he replies, slowly strumming the strings of the guitar with his pick.

"I don't want another song. It's our song," you groan.

His mouth parts, his eyes blinking so slow you wonder if he's even blinking at all. "You do know what that song is about... right?"

You cover your face with your hands mid-realization, groaning and moaning when you remember that the beautiful song has a deep meaning. Well, deep in a different form. "I meant like...we play it all the time. Jesus, Sunny." 

He laughs, beginning to play the song on the guitar for you. You lean your head back and look at the popcorn ceiling, bopping your head from side to side while the song progresses.

You hum the lyrics, counting the beats until the main part of the song plays. You whisper the lyrics of the song to yourself, tapping your finger against your stomach.

Sunny falls too deep into the song and begins singing himself, emphasizing the words exactly like Followill. You strain your neck looking at him, his jaw tightening and the nerves in his neck popping out.

Too deep into the song you start wondering if he's reminded by someone.

Sunny attracts so many girls, but he has a specific taste; and not women with a specific body type, he isn't that big of an asshole. Sunny might sometimes make comments about a woman's body, but it's always positive and if they feel uncomfortable, he takes it all back and apologizes.

You let him finish the song and once he's done, you begin on the questions. "Sunny, is there someone in this town who you have given your card to?"

He sets the guitar down next to him and stares back at you, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as if he's hiding a lie. He is, you aren't stupid and you can see it all in his face and body language.

"OH MY GOD!" you exclaim, jumping out of your seat and jolting to him, hugging him tightly. "We gotta kick you out now, you're not a virgin loser anymore. I mean, you're a loser but you're not a virgin anymore!"

He laughs at your joke, hugging you back until a sound of steps on the stairs pulls you from your moment. You look behind you and Spencer is walking down the stairs into the basement, a look of confusion lacing his features.

"Guess who isn't a virgin anymore?" you ask. You believe your question is rhetorical but Spencer eyes widen and he looks specifically at you, all color draining from his face.

"Idiot, it's me," Sunny clarifies, softening Spencer's face. Spencer breaks the stillness of his body and steps down the stairs, reaching Sunny who's close to tumbling off of his chair.

Spencer hugs Sunny and pats him on his back, removing himself right when it becomes too uncomfortable. You are all over exaggerating a small act of growing up, but you all said you would act this way when you did.

"Now it's just you and Y/N, and there's so much tension I might just kick myself out of the group so you can both figure it out," Sunny says bluntly, paying no mind to the effect of that sentence.

Your cheeks swell with heat and you turn to look at Spencer, his cheeks bright red and swelled. You stare at one another, a small smile pulling the corners of your lips. There is so much tension, you struggle to breathe when around one another.

"So who did you lose it to?" you turn to Sunny, whose gaze is stuck on you and Spencer.

"I'm not telling you guys. Unless you tell me who you lost yours to when you do," he suggests, batting his eyelashes.

You roll your eyes, leaning your head to the side in a motherly fashion. You don't imagine losing it to anyone at your high school besides one person...and that one person is right next to you. But that's far too creepy to think about so you try to wash the feelings and thoughts away.

"Actually I think that's far too private for her to tell us, don't you think?" Spencer looks at Sunny, his eyes straight into his as if they're telepathically speaking.

"No, it's fair if I tell you guys. Wait a minute, is it because she's a girl and shouldn't be talking about who she has sex with?" Sunny replies, his tone offended and sounding overly feminist. It's funny.

Spencer takes a step back and sits on the couch, his head shaking aggressively. "No, I just don't necessarily want to know."

"Because you want to be the one in her pants?"

You smack Sunny on the back of his head, hard with your hand halfway in a fist. "Shut the hell up," you whisper through clenched teeth.

He throws his right hand up in surrender, his left rubbing his head. "Okay! Okay I'll shut up. Just work out that goddamn tension, I'll be upstairs with Penelope."

Sunny gets up and walks out of the room, his footsteps getting softer and softer until he opens and closes the door, exiting.

You have no idea what to do. Look at one another?; actually talk it out like the young adults you are? It's far too difficult to even begin speaking, you hadn't rehearsed or created a script in case this happened. But the time is moving too fast and Spencer blurts out the worst yet best statement in the world.

"I want to break up with her," he breathily says, looking at you eagerly.

You've wanted to hear this for an entire month, but after he's said what he's said and looked at you as if you're supposed to lead him, you sit feeling empty inside. You're glad he's coming to his senses, but what was the reason he's come to this realization?

"Why?" you finally question, scanning his face for any and every possible answer.

He swallows the lump in his throat and opens his mouth, no words but noises. "I- I don't know it's just getting bad. I feel like she's keeping something from me and she's distant. I should be smarter than this but I'm stuck."

"Oh," is all you can say. Oh, the worst word to ever reply with.

"Oh?"

"I don't know what to say." That is the truth. You're overwhelmed, confused at what to say when the person you like is finally aware of their partner. Now that you have what you want you're frozen, unable to move and react.

Spencer remains muted, waiting for your input. You finally sigh, speak. "If that's what you want, then break up with her."

"But I want to know what you want," he whispers. He looks at you wryly, eyes set on you and nowhere else.

You decide to take a seat on the couch, next to him with your hand searching for his. He places his hand on your palm and you play with it, tracing the lines of his skin and waiting for something to be said. You aren't well with communicating in such situations, they aren't and will never be made for you.

"What do you want me to do?" he whispers desperately.

You shrug your shoulders, refraining all racing thoughts that come to mind. But Spencer Reid wants to know what you want. You won't tell him, but you'll aid him into figuring it out himself.

"I can't tell you what I want because if I say yes, break up with her or-"

"Do you want me to?"

"It doesn't matter, I'm not in a relationship with Jennifer. If I say yes, you'll do it because of me, but if I say no, you'll stay in that relationship," you emphasize, little bits of your heart beginning to chip away. "Do it for yourself, not for me. I don't matter in this situation."

"But you do," he counters.

You shake your head, inhaling heavily and exhaling with a jumble of words. "No, I don't. I would matter if I was involved in some cheating, but I'm not. The only reason you think I'm involved is because you... you want me. You're conflicted."

Spencer tugs his hand away. You look up at his face, blinking steadily, absorbing every wrinkle and emotion. He's advanced at hiding them, but right now he's displayed himself, turned himself completely vulnerable.

You lift your hand to his face and place it along his jaw, feeling the stiffness on your skin. "It's difficult, you know. Just sitting here makes me wanna... But I'm not ruining something because of my feelings— I have too many of those." You tap on his face and stand up, extending your hand out to him so he can grab it.

You lift him off of the couch and guide him around to the stairs, ascending them to the upper level. You open the basement door and step to the side, waiting for Spencer to come out. He appears right behind you and closes the door, turning and giving you a warm smile.

You lead him to the kitchen, finding Sunny eating cookies Penelope made this afternoon. She's stressed, or maybe she's fallen into a hole of sweetness and has no way of escaping.

You've stayed away from the kitchen as best as possible due to your logic. If you don't enter the kitchen, you won't crave what's there, so you won't eat. Simple.

No, it isn't simple. It's stupid.

You've tried to work on it—the eating disorder that crept its way into your life in the beginning of summer. Spencer has tried helping you through it, and you've actually forced yourself to try. It's somewhat worked, but the guilt after eating is still there.

"Are we gonna get ready or not?" you ask Sunny, who's stuffing his face with Halloween cookies.

Struggling to speak, he swallows the food and gives a reply, one that's mumbled and hardly audible. He stands and follows you to your room, climbing the steep stairs to the upper level.

You open your room door and step inside, your body automatically falling onto your messy bed. You haven't cleaned yet, but it doesn't matter because Sunny and Spencer have seen your room messier than it is right now.

"Just because we're used to it doesn't mean you shouldn't clean up a little," Sunny pipes up, himself helping you clean up.

You take a look around your room, trying to grasp onto what he's speaking of. There's clothes scattered around, a coupling bras by your closet but nothing major. You stand and pick up those bras, opening your closet and throwing them inside.

You swivel around and Spencer has taken over your bed, his long and slender body huddled together like a baby. You groan and pull him off of the bed, forcing him to stand up. "You gotta get ready, come on."

"What are you going as again? Please don't let it be that magician from last year," Sunny pleads, his voice muffled.

"No, I'm not really doing anything extravagant. Just wearing my skeleton jacket and painting my face," Spencer replies.

"Really?" you ask disappointingly. Spencer always dresses up with bright colors, not minding what others think. But he's dressing down... no skeleton suit, just makeup and his old skeleton jacket.

"Yeah, I don't know I guess I'm not feeling it this year," he mutters, following you to the small seating area by the windows. He sits down and you glance at him, upset to see his sunken eyes and beat up face showing he has not slept. 

"Is Spencer even there?" Sunny asks. 

"No," he scoffs, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. 

You're hit with a feeling that maybe he's thought about how, when and why to break up with Jennifer for a long time, forgetting about the concept of sleep. He looks like a wreck. A good wreck. 

You quickly head to your vanity and grab your entire makeup bag plus face paint and paintbrushes. You move to the window seat and push Spencer aside, sitting down criss-cross inches away. 

You hook your fingers underneath his chin, bringing his face to yours. You offer a half smile, to which he gives back, only pinged with anxiousness. "Hey," you whisper, "if you want to break up with her, do it today. Your birthday is in two days, I don't think you want to celebrate it with someone you don't like." 

He nods, as if he's thoroughly going to think about it and weigh his options. You let go of his chin and open your makeup bag, taking out a foundation you specifically bought for both Sunny and Spencer. You hold it up to his face, inspecting the shade. It is a couple of shades lighter, but it'll work. 

You begin working on his makeup, adding the face paint and drawing on his neck with eyeliner before filling it in as well. You're forced to hover over him, inches away until you can feel his breath beating on your skin. The room feels hotter, but it is only you, flustered over the close contact. 

You and Spencer have been this close before, you've hugged and slow danced at school dances, but now that your feelings for one another have been put out in the open (not entirely, but close enough) your body has reseted and you don't know how to act. 

He places his hand on your hip, his thumb gliding over the hem of your shirt. Your breath catches in your throat and you move aside, whispering a "stop" to him. At the moment, he is still Jennifer's boyfriend and you are only friends, therefore him touching you with such delicacy as this is uncomfortable. Uncomfortable in the best of ways. 

He moves his hand to his lap, allowing you to continue with his makeup in "peace." You finish his makeup off almost an hour later, your hand tired and the front of your hand smeared in white, gray and black paint. You smile and he does too, sending you an air kiss. You catch it and hold it close to your heart, laughing softly. 

He stands up and goes to the corner of the room, grabbing his clothes and throwing them onto your bed. He removes his top and you turn away, your eyes wide and your cheeks steaming. Sunny comes up behind you and shakes your shoulders, obnoxiously laughing in your ear. 

"Shut up," you admonish, elbowing him in the ribs. 

"I don't think you even had to paint his face to look like a skeleton, he already is one underneath," he teases, shaking you once more before returning to the mirror. You roll your eyes and get up from the window seat, moving to your closet to grab your outfit. 

You never buy Halloween outfits, it's too much to think about and you simply don't enjoy shopping for clothes. You always go for a sexy something because you've forced yourself to believe that someone will want you if you sexualize yourself. It doesn't work, but you've told yourself too many times to not believe it. 

You grab the dress and throw it over your shoulder, pushing past Sunny to the door. Spencer's gotten dressed already and despite his outfit being plain, it looks good. You open the door and step out, padding to the bathroom. 

You step inside and close the door behind yourself, sighing as you turn on the lights. You immediately remove your shirt and pants, throwing them to the side. You've got a pushup bra already which makes it seem as though your boobs are bigger than they are. You unzip the dress and step into it, pulling the sleeves over your arms. 

It fits too loose. You haven't zipped it up yet but it's looser than it was last year. You haven't been eating and as many times you've put on clothes that have gotten too big for you, you haven't paid much mind to it. 

You slip your hand behind your back and grab the zipper, zipping it until you cannot reach it anymore. It is too loose. "Dammit," you whisper, cursing yourself until you're on the brink of crying. "Can someone come in here?" you call out, hoping someone comes in and helps. Penelope isn't home, again, so she can't help. 

Steps grow louder and louder until they're by the door, opening it slowly and stepping through the crack. It's Spencer who's come to the rescue. "Hey," he says, closing the door behind him. "What's wrong?"

You wipe the falling tears from your cheek and look into the mirror, your hands snaking to your back where the zipper is. "Can you zip the rest up?" 

"Yeah," he nods. He steps behind you and grabs the zipper, gliding it up the dress until it reaches the end. "Is it good?" 

"It's too loose," you mumble. You pull at the dress, pinching the waist together in the mirror. You think about pinning it in the back, but you have no pins and looking for one will be a hassle. "Whatever," you say, flattening out the dress with your hands. "I'll just be a... whatever this is." 

"You look fine," Spencer tries to reassure, patting your arm with his cold hand. 

"Yeah, I guess, let's just go back," you reply, opening the door and turning off the lights. 

Your night has barely begun and you feel like curling into a ball and not coming out. Avoiding everyone and everything is storming into your mind and has turned into an option. That's the downside of hating your body: wanting to hide from everyone because you think others will judge and judge until you break into pieces. 

It was fun in the beginning, losing weight from not eating, but now it's hell. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"You okay pretty girl? You didn't even sing along to that Romeo and Juliet song," Sunny says, concern in his voice. 

"Maybe that's the reason I'm sad, Love Story is a sad song," you retort, stepping out of the car into the freezing October night. 

Sunny wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a tight hug. His leather jacket sticks to your skin, the cold air freezing you together. Even with his arms around you, you're still cold. Maybe it's because the leather isn't warm, or because you have no sweater on, or maybe it's because he doesn't warm the inside of your body like Spencer does. 

You hug your body with your arms and begin drifting from Sunny, moving towards Spencer now. He gladly takes you in, throwing his long arms around your body. You feel tiny around him, more vulnerable than he has ever been. You wonder what it is. It isn't because he's intimidating or somehow hurtful, but something else you can't lay a finger on. 

You make your way into the building and hand Strauss your tickets, to which she gives you an orange wristband. It makes you laugh, how they're acting as if it's some kind of club and you must have an identifiable sign that you're a student. 

You slip it onto your wrist and enter the gym, your body vibrating as you enter. The music is loud, too loud for anyone's ears. You look around at the teenagers on the floor, dozens in sexy costumes like you were supposed to be in, others looking like Spencer and Sunny. Then there are some kids who have no clue what culture appropriation is. 

There are tables surrounding the center of the gym, so you find an empty one furthest from the speakers and hurry to it. You pull out a chair and sit down, pushing your seat in so close to the table you almost suffocate. 

You lay your elbows on the table, watching the people dance to the non-Halloween music. Spencer and Sunny finally find you after a minute and sit down, both pulling their chairs next to you. 

Luke was supposed to come, but he said he had no costume and his parents didn't enjoy the celebration. You promised to bring him some "punch" if you could though, along with a cup of candy if there was any. 

You sigh, gazing at the girls who fit their costumes perfectly. Perfect tits, nice waist, the prettiest of features. You might look like some of them on the floor, but your eyes deceive you and you think you look misshapen. It's odd how your mind works. How you can see yourself as the most beautiful human, but other times you think you look like a wild animal. 

Then you find Jennifer, coming towards you in a slim, angel costume. She looks beautiful, slim and supple in movement. It's as if for a second, she's given up her Christian mask and put on a slutty- in a good way- one instead. She'll drop it when the night ends, but for the moment being she's living it till the point where no one realizes it's a costume. 

You look at Spencer, who seems to be unfazed by the costume. She looks hot, smoking sexy, but he looks bored in a way. "Your girlfriend," you whisper in his ear, seeing if he was simply staring off somewhere. 

"Yeah, she looks pretty," is all he says. Jennifer pulls out a chair and sits down in front of you, looking at you with a stink eye. 

"You look gorgeous," you shout over the music. 

"Thank you, you look," her eyes roll down your body, stopping midway, "good too." 

"It was supposed to be more tight around the top but life happens and I don't know, lost weight and it just doesn't fit like it used to," you say, continuing the dry conversation. You have to end on good terms with her this year, or on medium terms if it lets you graduate without being beaten on. 

You aren't fond of conversing with her, but it's a shield of protection for yourself. You aren't scared of her one bit, it is the drama that will drag you by the roots of your hair. It's tiring to be involved in high school drama, so you will do anything to stay out of it. 

"Yeah, I can see. I could have taken you shopping but my schedule probably doesn't fit with yours. Since you know, I do productive things," she giggles. She rakes her hands through her hair and you swear to yourself you won't reach over and pull it all out. 

"Alright maybe we shouldn't be all bitchy tonight. She was trying to be nice, Miss Jenni," Sunny spits, looking straight at Jennifer. 

"I wasn't being mean," she retorts. She gives you a smile, her clumped eyelashes beating down on you. "But if I was, then oopsies." 

"Jennifer," Spencer breaks in, his voice dominant over anyone at the table. 

She leans her head to the side and gives Spencer a "look." "Fine, I'll go dance. Have a nice night, Y/N." 

You nod, your head aching from the quick moment. You are so easily disturbed it's quite a talent. You decide to stand and grab a drink, your tongue and body craving aching for a drink. You walk over to the small bowl of punch, eyeing it and the surrounding food. You grab a cup and fill it with the red drink, bringing it to your nose to smell if anything else has been mixed in. It is, typical. 

You gulp it down and fill it up again, gulping it down as before then throwing the cup into the trash. You look around at the food, a small bag of pretzels catching your eye. You wonder if it's worth it, but decide to eat them anyways. Baby steps, you remind yourself.

You grab the bag and head back to the table, pulling out your chair and sitting down. The juice and hint of vodka stings your throat a bit but you pay no mind to it, it's rather enjoyable. You open the bag of pretzels and bite into them. 

You feel eyes on you and you flick your eyes to Spencer and Sunny, who are gazing at you and the pretzel inches from your mouth. "You're eating," Spencer says in surprise. 

"Yeah, I was hungry," you laugh, throwing the pretzel into your mouth. 

"That's good, really good," Spencer whispers, the words muffled under the vibrations of lyrics. 

You nod, revealing a smile you've been meaning to put on the entire night. You told yourself you would smile at one point, and you've been handed the opportunity. Spencer rubs your arm and you receive a burst of motivation to finish the packet. So you do. 

Though you don't get any more snacks for the rest of the night, you feel as though you've fulfilled something. Most people must think this is such a small accomplishment, maybe even think it is no accomplishment at all. But to you and your best friends, it is like checking something off of a bucket list. 

The night will soon come to an end and people start leaving with friends and partners, sloppily leaving from the mixture of juice and alcohol added to the bowls. You laugh just watching the freshmen stumble out, but you also feel guilty for not doing anything. 

Since the room becomes smaller and smaller, Spencer begins to look around. Jennifer is nowhere to be spotted, you and him both realize. 

You had planned for this in your head. You, Spencer and Sunny would go to the spot Jennifer always is with her secret boyfriend and Spencer would go haywire. They would argue but you would stop anything from happening, then they would break up and you all would go to your house and consolidate him.

The arguing is thrown out of the picture, along with Sunny, but you can always fill in his spot. "Spencer, I don't think she's here. We can look for her?" you offer, looking at him for approval. 

"Okay, yeah let's do that," Spencer agrees, standing up and kicking his seat in. 

You do so as well and quickly exit the room, excited to bust Jennifer's cover. You shouldn't be so excited, but it's about time to catch her in action. She's done this for so long without Spencer finding out, it frightens you how much power she is capable of holding. 

Spencer paces behind you, slowing down when he's next to you. You walk around the hallways, attempting to seem like you have no idea where to go. You walk through the senior hallways, then the junior. You have to exit through a door to exit the senior and junior building and enter the lower grade building, and thankfully it's open. 

"Why would she be in that building?" Spencer inquires, grabbing your hand so he can keep up. 

"We've checked everywhere, we at least have to check in there." You jog through the sidewalk and pull on the door making sure it's open. "God, if they don't lock these doors something might go really wrong." 

"Maybe it's because we have nothing important. Plus, no one really tries anything here, the FBI building is not too far," Spencer notes, entering the sophomore and freshman building. 

"Mhm," you mumble, slowing down your pace. You walk through the hallways, passing the old classrooms you used to be stuck in. You slow down when you're near Jennifer's spot, grabbing Spencer's arm tightly. 

"What?" he asks. 

The noises of giggling and kissing fills the hallways. They are clearly trying to be quiet, but it isn't working. Not one bit. "Someone's here," you advise. 

The giggling intensifies, combined with muffled moans. The laughs belong to Jennifer, for sure. She giggles at everything no matter how unfunny it is. "Is that... JJ?" Spencer croaks out, his tone hurt. You understand why he would be hurt, she's cheating. She has been cheating, for a while. 

He pulls your hand and moves from the wall, walking around the corner. And there she is, spotted with her famous football player, mouth on mouth. You thought you would be happy to see it fall into place, but you aren't. Watching the color drain out of Spencer's face and his eyes sink deeper into his sockets is a pain to see. 

"What the hell," Spencer shouts at the couple, earning their undivided attention.

"Dammit," Jennifer whispers, pushing the guy aside and wiping her mouth with her hand. 

"JJ, why?" Spencer's voice cracks and you tighten your grasp on his hand. "See, I was going to break up with you, but it seems to me like you already took that into your own hands." 

"You had a boyfriend?" the oblivious boy asks, his eyes wide.

"Yes, she did. But now she doesn't. So thank you," he replies. 

Jennifer steps aside, crossing her arms across her chest. She's angry and is planning on letting go of all of her anger. "It seems to me like you took it into your own hands too. I mean come on Spencer, her? Out of all people?" 

"Y/N Y/L/N? Dude I gotta agree with JJ," the boy adds. Unnecessary. "Hasn't she slept with almost every guy in our year?" 

You never thought you would need to step in, but now that you've been talked down upon, you won't let yourself crouch behind Spencer like you don't have feelings of your own. "Why does everyone think that? You really think I want to fuck all of you?" 

You find yourself stepping closer to him, letting go of Spencer and using your hands to gesture to him. He clearly doesn't enjoy it because he steps up as well. "Yeah, I mean you'll do anyone you can lay your hands on." 

"You're easy too, asshole. If we're going to talk about how I have fucked everyone here, we have to talk about how you've kneeled down to every pretty girl here. You like being someone's little bitch, huh? I don't even have to know your name to know." 

He forms a fist and winds his arm, swinging quickly. You move your head and Spencer catches the hit, the sound of his face punched piercing your ear. 

Your breath stops and you look behind you, Spencer stumbling back onto the line of lockers. He's been gaining more muscle, but he still isn't ready to fight back. 

His cheekbone and the side of his eye is red, blood already dripping down the side of his face. His makeup is smeared and his face is scrunched up in pain. You turn back and look straight at the boy, small small boy who's got a smirk on his face. 

"Come on, punch me," you tell him. He looks at you warily, his eyebrows knit together. He won't try to punch you again. Now that he's asked to, he's scared. "You didn't want to punch him, did you? So go ahead, punch me." 

"No," he breathes. 

You smile evilly, joining your hands together in front of you. "Alright then. Have a good night, couple to be." You swivel around and grab Spencer's arm, pulling him out of the toxic air that's behind you. 

"I could have stopped that it was my business," Spencer innocently says. 

"No, it's okay. I had it, don't even worry about it," you reply. 

You sneak out of the building and find your car in the parking lot, grabbing the keys from Spencer. You unlock the car and enter the car, starting it and pulling out without seeing if Spencer is situated. 

You drive home in silence. It isn't because of Spencer, he did nothing wrong, it's because you've realized that everyone thinks you've slept with every guy at school. It's disappointing to hear that from someone you didn't even know had a name. 

On the way to your house, Spencer finds makeup wipes in your armrest and begins wiping away his makeup, using up almost all of the package. As he dumps the dirty towelettes, you can see specks of blood throughout the gray an black. 

After about ten minutes, you reach your house and you park in your spot. You turn off the car and step out, locking the car when Spencer is out. You walk around the car and grab his arm, pulling him to the front door. 

No one is home, like usual, so you have the house to yourself. Sunny has gone with his private girlfriend, so he was checked off of the list of who to take home. Spencer is not going home, you know that already. 

You unlock the door and push it open, stumbling inside from the energy you've lost today. Spencer walks inside and you close and lock the door, setting your keys on the dish. You open the door to the basement- which is right next to the entrance- and descend the stairs, your heels clacking on the wood. 

You throw them off of your feet when you hit the carpet, the pain of running finally registering in your body. You wouldn't be surprised if your feet have formed blisters, bleeding even. You'll check when you clean Spencer up. 

You open the cabinet above the washer and dryer and pull out the plastic first aid kit, leaving the wooden cabinet open. You take it to the couch and plop it down on your lap, flipping open the latches on each side. 

Spencer sits in front of you, his hair disheveled, his face managing to still leak blood. You grab a small cotton pad and wipe away the blood, folding it and wiping more of the blood until both areas are dry. You throw the pads on the coffee table and grab an alcohol wipe, ripping it open and unfolding it. 

As you near the wipe to his cheek, he leans back, scrunching up. You grab his chin and pull him forward, close to your face. "It'll only sting for a second," you assure. 

He nods and you wipe the area, removing the blood stains from his pale skin. He winces, like you expected, but he calms down when he's gotten accustomed to the sting. 

The area is clean so you lay the wipe on the table, next to the cotton pads. "Ointment next," you whisper to disturb the silence. He remains quiet, only nodding as a response. 

You take out the ointment and screw the top off, squeezing the minty cream onto your pointer finger. You rub it onto the cuts, whispering small encouragements through the burn. 

You finish smoothing it over his cuts and screw the top back on, placing the tube into the box and closing the latches. You lay the kit on the table and lay your attention back to Spencer, who's beat up pretty bad. 

You press your fingers to his skin, gliding them around his cuts and the bruises that have begun to form around his left eye. "I'm sorry about this," you whisper. 

"It was a punch, it's okay," he replies, his tone low like yours. 

"No, I mean... I knew about Jennifer and that guy. I just didn't tell you because then you would think I was trying to break you up because I was jealous." You swallow the lump in your throat, your breaths heavy as you study his face closely. 

His expression only softens, accepting your answer. "Hon, I had a feeling she was cheating, and I knew you were keeping something from me, I just wanted you to tell me." 

Your tongue swipes over your lips, teeth biting them anxiously. He isn't angry with you, but now you don't know what to say or what to do. You both are close to one another, eyes flicking to one another's lips as if they might disappear. Back and forth, back and forth. 

"I like you, Y/N. I just wanted you to tell me," he continues, his fingers crawling onto your skin. He rests his fingers on your waist, burning through your loose costume. 

"Well I like you," you reply, "a lot." 

You stare at Spencer, both faces still until he leans in, closing the gap between you. He plants a soft kiss on your lips, then another until you kiss back. You wrap your hands around his neck, fully inhaling his face from what it feels like. 

You close your eyes tightly, stars and rainbows exploding behind your eyelids. Your body aches from your heart beating so fast. It's relaxing to kiss him, to think, "I finally get to kiss him after so long." 

Because it has been "so long." So long and you finally get to feel what it's like to have him.

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉


	6. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx

warnings: mentions of marijuana, eating disorder.

ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 28– ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ʀᴇɪᴅ'ꜱ 18ᴛʜ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ

It is Spencer Reid's birthday today and you have everything planned out. A party before the actual party, which will be at your house, then you will all take a trip to the hotel room you booked at around 9:00 P.M.

You'll take the vodka and tequila you stole from your parents and weed you bought from the neighborhood dealer. You don't plan on smoking though, you want to be sober for the night so you can enjoy Spencer more than you usually do.

Then at 1:00 A.M. everyone will leave.

And by everyone you mean Derek, Penelope, and Luke because those are the three other friends you all have. Sunny has invited his girlfriend which you soon get to find out who it is, and she's staying after hours.

You're quite excited to meet her. You're assuming she's the one who revoked his virginity, but if she isn't then that's fine.

Sunny has been a "player" for almost all high school and you're hoping he's settled down and found someone who's caught his eye. It'll be something to cross off the bucket list. "Sunny Hill finds a girl and doesn't just make out with her then push her aside!"

But the reminder that Sunny has invited his girlfriend to stay at the hotel sends shivers down your spine. He's invited her with the thought that you and Spencer are somehow now a thing, or maybe he's done so in hopes you'll talk more about the "future."

You have no problem with the thought of sleeping alongside Spencer, you've done it multiple times before, it is only that no romantic feelings were involved then. Now, you've openly spoken about your feelings towards one another and it makes it hard to not think about what can and can't happen.

The can and cannots being what to do when alone, AKA making out or having sex. You don't plan on having sex right now though, you haven't been comfortable enough to try anything. In the following months, maybe, but you have to speak about it to Spencer. Soon, you hope. To get it out there.

"When are they coming over? Isn't it time?" Penelope asks, grabbing chips from a clear bowl and stuffing them into her face.

"Yeah, but they're always late," you say, plopping yourself down on the couch.

"Where are your parents?" Morgan asks.

"Don't know, and I don't really care," you reply. Your parents are never home, and to be quite honest, it doesn't worry you where they are.

Your dad sends you money every week which notifies you that he's still alive, and your mom comes home and stays for three straight weeks, then takes a vacation. All bills are paid, but they are absent, both physically and all other forms of absence.

"Maybe you should put a tracker in them," Emily laughs, taking a sip of wine. For a twenty year old, she really does make you think she's a forty year old wine aunt.

"You know, I've actually wanted to do that. We need to know where they are, it's kinda sad telling people our parents are never home," Penelope says, her shoulders slumping down in a tired fashion.

"People would die for their parents to not always be home, Penelope. We should throw more parties," you say. You take your phone from your pocket and open it, checking your messages app to see if anyone's texted you.

"With what friends, pretty girl?" Morgan queries, leaning his head to the side. "You're friends with pretty boy 1, 2 and 3 and us."

"And that's all I need, Derek Morgan," you return, applying a flirty tone to your voice.

"Someone's here!" Penelope exclaims, standing up from the couch and immediately running to the door. Her heels clack loudly against the floor, her sparkly dress shaking, making it seem as if she's the birthday girl.

The locks turn and gasping begins, then the sound of a pleasing teenage boy at the door. "Happy happy birthday pretty boy," Penelope says, teeth clattering.

You jolt to your feet and head to the door, peering through the corner at Spencer. He pats Penelope's back, his fingers curling and uncurling as she lets him go. Your lips pull up at the sight, your chest fighting for a chance to let go of a laugh.

"Thank you, Penelope," he breathes, giving her a pursed smile. Penelope nods and moves away, giving you a chance to give him a hug. "Hey, how are you?"

You scoff, shaking your head at such question. "How are you? It's your birthday." You pull him into a hug, feeling his warmth transfer into your body. A hint of lavender wafting into your nose as well.

"I feel pretty normal. I don't enjoy celebrating myself completing another year of life. I find it... unnecessary," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Well enjoy it," you whisper. You both stay wrapped together for a moment, twisting and turning until Sunny bursts through the door, louder than ever.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPENCIE," he shouts, pulling him from you and embracing him in a hug. You look behind him, spotting a nervous girl.

Delilah Walker, girl who gave him hickeys over the summer. So he didn't just want hickeys, he wanted more.

Delilah is pretty. Very pretty, in fact. She has a nice figure and dresses in tight clothing that accentuates all curves. She has dark brown hair and blue eyes, and large plump lips that she paints over with lipstick every day.

She wears glasses sometimes, but the times you've spoken to her, she says she hates her appearance in them so she wears contacts 90% of the time. Overall, she's pretty, nice, and she's smart as hell. Sunny has chosen a... "good" girl.

You wave her over, and she does, slowly. "Hi," you welcome, pulling her to the side. "Delilah, right?"

"Yeah, do they um, act like this all the time?" She laughs, the concern in her eyes pulling the laugh from the serious question.

You look behind her, staring at the hugging mess. "Yeah, they've been like this forever."

"Do they treat you like that?"

"No. Well, maybe. I've gotten somewhat used to it but I still hate it," you reply. She nods and you guide her into the living room, showing her the couches so she can sit down.

She takes a seat shyly, which makes you giggle because she's to the far corner, clearly uncomfortable. "Come on, you want a drink? We have wine coolers if you don't want to drink drink, we have beer, caprisuns?"

She laughs at the last option, then begins scooting towards you. "Uhhh, water? For right now," she asks.

"Yeah," you grin. You move along to the kitchen and open the small cooler on the floor, one you've prepared for when you all go to the hotel. You bend down and open the cooler, taking out a bottle of water.

"Hey," Spencer says, tapping on the kitchen counter.

You close the cooler and stand back up, a smile plastering onto your face. "Hey."

"How are you?" He asks again, a more serious tone taking over his voice.

You shrug your shoulders, tossing the water bottle from side to side. "What's with the questions Spencer Reid? I'm okay, you don't need to worry."

"Well Y/N Y/L/N, I want to know how you're doing. JJ and that guy were real assholes and I want to know if you're doing okay," he continues, his body moving closer and closer to yours.

You shake your head, one reason to show him not to worry, and the other to shake away the memory of collected words they said to you. "I know people think I'm a whore, I just don't care anymore. They think what they think, I can't really make them think otherwise."

Spencer's eyebrows knit together, worry stretched across his features which makes it unbearable for you to look at him. "But you aren't a...whore... hon you haven't even done anything with anyone."

"Well considering I almost did do something, maybe that's why they keep saying so," you clarify.

"With who?" Protective fathering in his voice. It's so Spencer Reid, sounding like a father. It's enjoyable sometimes, to hear that he cares and is fully invested in what's happened, but other times it's unwanted. Like now.

You take in a deep breathe, then exhale. It's best for him to know if he wants to know. "Aaron. Hotchner. We made out and we almost, "did it." I just stopped him before we got anywhere because I was scared."

He nods, his mouth parted and his eyes almost bulging outside of his eye sockets. He says nothing, and you don't want to continue the conversation because it's entirely too much for the moment. It's Spencer's birthday and he shouldn't be worried about who almost did and didn't do.

"I will go take this to Delilah," you say. "Sunny Hill's girlfriend."

"She's Sunny's girlfriend?" He asks, following behind you.

"Mhm," you giggle. Back to normal as if nothing happened. "I think I love her already." You go over and hand her the water, plopping yourself down beside her.

Spencer sits down beside you, and soon Sunny does as well, making all you huddle beside one another. You speak and ask a load of questions, ones that are too private to ask someone who isn't banging your friend.

"So Delilah, if I may ask, is he nice after sex?" Delilah almost spits out her water, her hand enclosing her mouth in case any spills out.

Spencer nudges your shoulder, causing you to throw your hands up in surrender. You and Spencer laugh and laugh until Sunny speaks up, asking a question which violently heats your face.

"Question for weird girl," he says.

"Mhm," you reply, leaning over to him.

"Are you going to give Reid the birthday sex he's been asking for?"

Your mouth falls open and you sit back, falling onto Spencer's shoulder. He covers your face for you, and you plop yours on top of his for extra security.

Sunny laughs viciously, earning a muffled laugh from you. It was funny, it was, but it's awfully uncomfortable to ask that certain question in front of your sister.

And just like you thought, she smacks both Spencer and Sunny, right on their heads. "I don't want to hear about that, please please it's so yuck!" She exclaims.

Spencer removes his hands from your face and rubs the back of his head, groaning while he does. You turn to him and smile, laughing softly at the look of pain. You should be caressing his cheek and acting corny and sweet, but you don't even feel a pinch of sympathy for him.

Not in a bitchy way, but in the friendly way in which you've been friends for so long it doesn't pain you to see them get smacked in the head. In other cases such as him catching a punch, yes, but not when he's been smacked by your sister.

"Who said I even asked for that anyways?" Spencer asks, his eyes finally focusing on you.

"Oh Reid, we all know you want some," Sunny laughs, reaching over and punching Spencer in the arm.

Spencer punches back, harder than Sunny. "I think a kiss will suffice," he retorts, flicking his eyes back down to yours.

You nod, smiling softly. You wish you could give him what he wants. You can tell he does want something more than a kiss, but he isn't and won't push anything onto you. He understands your fear for being intimate.

You can make out with someone, but the thought of someone pressed against you while they're inside of you is far too much to process. You don't want someone to see you naked either, it's overwhelming.

"Are you scared?" He finally whispers, hovering over Delilah.

"Okay, Y/N can we go up to your room for a sec? I have to talk to you about something," Spencer breaks in, grabbing your hand tightly.

You stand with Spencer, following behind him up to your room. He's quiet until you reach your room, where he pulls you inside and closes the door.

"You know I didn't say that, right?" He asks, his tone weary. He doesn't want you to think he already wants sex.

You nod, keeping your mouth shut.

"I get that you're scared and that's okay, I understand. I don't mind waiting," he whispers. He begins gliding his fingers up your skin, landing on your elbow which he holds in his fingertips.

You nod.

Deep down, you start to process his words and how they sound as if he's experienced some way. If he understands, what's gotten him to understand?

You're overthinking, but that's your specialty.

"Have you done it before? You sound experienced," you ask, your voice shaking.

His breathing stops and he presses his lips together, gathering his answer. He shrugs, as if he's asking: "what do you think?"

"Have you?"

"I've gotten blowjob...s," he adds the s towards the end, dragging the letter until he finds it unnecessary.

"Oh," you return. Upsetting.

You wonder who he's gotten them from. Maeve? No she's an absolute angel who never had a dirty thought. Well maybe she did. They do say the most innocent appearing individuals are the dirtiest behind closed doors.

And maybe it could have been Jennifer. Who knows what she did with Spencer. You had always thought of her as the sweetest Christian girl on the planet... well you made yourself believe so. Then she showed her true colors and she was feisty. She is feisty. Therefore, who knows what she

He shakes his head, his mouth opening and closing in attempt to find words. He places his hands on your shoulders, tightening his grip. "No, I don't want you to think about that. Pretty girl that happened before you."

"That sounds stupid. Before me was two days ago, Spencer Reid."

"I get that, but before-before." He looks into your eyes, sympathy turning his pupils into large orbeez. "I don't want you to think about that, okay? Okay pretty girl?" He takes hold of your chin, his thumb running over your skin delicately.

"Yeah, but if you really want it then I can-"

He leans into you and presses a kiss to your lips, his thumb still on your chin. "Mhmhm, no. You, you don't give yourself up like that for someone else."

You nod, leaning into the kiss once more. The bricks lift off your shoulders and you're finally given the chance to remain calm. Spencer knows how to do that, he's Spencer Reid.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Who'd you buy this from? I'm high out of my mind," Derek says, passing the joint to Emily. Emily takes it right out of his hands, placing it in her mouth as soon as she gets it in her fingertips.

"He lives a couple doors down from you, actually," you tell him. You look around the room, watching Luke try to smoke for what seems like the first time.

"North, East, South?" He asks, looking to Penelope and Emily for assistance. They shrug their shoulders and he averts his focus to you.

"Left of your house. Five houses down." He bursts into laughter, Emily and Penelope following behind him. You knit your eyebrows, scoffing. "What?"

"You don't know your directions?" He asks.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head at the uncontrollable laughter emitting from the trio. "Do you?"

He falls forward, his body shaking and turning, his hands slapping himself and Emily beside him. "No," he states plainly.

You turn to Luke, not minding the man and women who clearly do not smoke. Ever. Luke remains struggling, inhaling and what you think swallowing the smoke. You reach out to him and he hands you the joint.

"Okay," you begin, holding the joint near your mouth. "You inhale, hold it in a little bit, then exhale."

You show him, inhaling and keeping the smoke in before exhaling. You hand him back the joint and he follows your instructions, coughing hysterically. It'll hit him soon if he's dying like he is right now.

You grab the water bottle next to you and throw it to him, taking the joint from his fingers as he scrambles for water. You laugh to yourself, taking one last smoke before Spencer takes it from you.

You flick your eyes to him, watching him inhale and exhale, smoke coming out of his mouth. "Thought you don't smoke, little baby."

"It's my birthday, hon, I have to."

You scoot in next to him and he inserts the joint into your mouth, allowing you to hit another blow. "Yeah but don't get all high, it strips you from your pretty boy-ness."

"I won't, I promise. I plan on caressing your face with kisses at the end of the night," he informs.

"Mhm," you reply.

He drags another hit from the joint and passes it back to Luke, who's joined you on the bed. You both watch Luke eagerly smoke, congratulating him when he does it correctly for the second time.

"Don't get too high, Alvez, you gotta go home," Sunny advises, looking at the disappointed Luke when he realizes his parents will kill him.

"It's okay, they fall asleep at nine o'clock," he replies, his face livening up.

"It's a weekend," Sunny retorts, staring blankly at Luke.

"Yeah, I know. They fall asleep at eight on the weekdays."

Sunny chuckles, falling into a fit of laughter as well. It wasn't a good idea to have a bunch of teenagers- one twenty year old- smoke in a room with alcoholic beverages involved.

Smoking while drinking increases the high and the cravings smack you like a bus. It is no good to do both at the same time, you've learned that yourself.

You and Spencer must be the most sober, because even Delilah's eyes are bloodshot and her laughter increases each time someone throws in an unfunny joke. It's funny seeing them like literal clowns, but it's alarming as well.

You don't worry about sending the four others out when it hits 1:00 A.M., because the teenager in the lobby offered assistance in smoking in the room. He said, quoting, "I know you guys want to smoke, and I've assigned myself to clean your room, but for extra help, open the patio doors wide open and buy a bunch of those car fresheners."

You took his tips and went out to buy car fresheners, the cherry ones in specific. You opened them and placed them around the room, in the areas that would need the most help.

You could have all gathered on the patio, but seven people bunched together on a patio was not the smartest idea.

The smell now doesn't worry you, but Luke does. He clearly hasn't been high once in his life, which means he'll be paranoid more than ever and he'll face a couple of people on his way to the car.

Your first time, you drove around with Spencer Reid and he took you to his house after. You didn't have to interact with anyone, thankfully, but the thought of facing someone still worried you.

He'll be fine though, he said his parents would be asleep by now. At least that's what you're telling yourself so you won't go into a state of panic.

You lay on Spencer as time goes by, watching everyone smoke until no one can smoke out of the joints. Most everyone is high besides Penelope, who is only tipsy from the drinks she's made.

She's the one driving everyone home, you suppose. Emily and Derek will be the ones to sleepover, but Luke will deal with sneaking back into his house without making a noise.

An hour, then two and three pass and it hits 1:00 A.M., meaning everyone must get out and go back home. You assign everyone a role in cleaning up and they do so clumsily.

Derek and Emily help with the bottles, Luke helps with the snack wrappers and boxes of food, and Sunny and Delilah are passed out on the bed.

You and Spencer remove the birthday banners from the walls and fold them neatly on top of the small refrigerator, laying them next to the unused balloons.

Luke, Penelope, Emily and Derek all finish and you wave them a goodbye, hugging them tightly before they exit the room.

You look back at Spencer and offer a smirk, to which he narrows his eyebrows at. "What is that mind thinking about?"

"Let's go to the pool," you suggest.

"I didn't bring a swimsuit," he says.

"Good thing I brought you one," you return. You pull his hand and take him to the small couch in the corner of the room.

You open your bag and hand him black swimming trunks, grabbing your swimsuit as well. He goes into the bathroom and you wait outside, tapping your feet on the ground until he comes out.

His body is slim, his flat and somewhat toned body making your mouth part the slightest bit. You stand up and push past him, entering the bathroom.

You remove your clothing and slip on your bathing suit, bawling up your used clothing. You turn off the lights and close the door, dumping your clothes on the blank white bed in which Spencer is sitting on.

"Ready to go?" You ask, surprising Spencer.

"Yeah," he replies, grabbing the white towel and the shirt next to him and following after you. He slips on the Pixies graphic t-shirt quietly behind you as you look around the room one last time.

You take the key card on the tv table and open the door, Spencer right behind you. You head for the elevators and press on the button, waiting patiently for the doors to open.

Once they do, you both step inside and press the "down" button. The doors close and you descend. "Isn't the pool on the top floor?" Spencer queries.

"It's closed, gotta ask the nice boy in the lobby to open it."

"Oh, okay," he murmurs.

The doors finally open and you walk out, running along to the front desk. Thankfully, he's still there. "Hi," you say.

"Hey miss, what can I do for you?"

"Can you, by any chance, open the pool for us?" You look at him with the nicest eyes you've put on for anyone.

He looks back at you, weighing his imaginary options. "I don't know, what's in store for me?"

You press your hands against the glass table top, looking down at the wood beneath it then back at the curly headed boy in front of you. He looks like he smokes. "I'll give you a pre roll."

"You know how to roll, pretty girl?"

"Yeah, I do. So... Can you?"

"Yeah," he finally says after a silence. He grabs his keys and heads to the elevators.

"What the hell," Spencer whispers, leaning in next to your ear.

"Some people will do stuff for free weed, it's just how it works," you whisper back to him.

The boy leads you up to the pool, opening the smallest of doors. It would make sense if the pool was outside, but it's at the top of the hotel. A door blocks you from entering, which ruins the look of the floor.

He opens it for you and you enter, turning back to him. "Thanks, I'll leave it on the top shelf of the closet."

"Thanks," he responds.

You turn back and Spencer is already sitting on the edge of the pool. You sit next to him, dipping your legs into the cold water.

"So," you nudge his arm, causing him to turn to you. "How was your birthday? 1-10."

He clicks his tongue, biting down on his lips momentarily before giving you an answer. "It was a nine because I got to see you."

You laugh, shaking your head at the corniness. "Ugh, I love you with my entire heart but that makes me take back the kisses I've given you."

"What?!!" He questions in oblivion. "Every day I get to see you, it's nine or ten. Even when I'm having a bad day."

"Stop now I love you more and more," you tease.

"You know what's weird?"

"What?" You lean over, looking into his warm honey eyes.

"We get to say I love you even if we're not a couple," he states.

"Because we've been friends so long it's kinda the truth," you return.

You've also loved Spencer more than a friend for a long time as well. You think maybe he's loved you in the same way for a while, so you keep it that way or else you'll fall into heartbreak land.

"I know, but in what way do you love me?"

You lift your hand and softly knock on his head, careful enough not to hurt him. "Hello? Is Spencer Reid in there?"

He chuckles, pushing you aside. "I'm serious. I want to know."

You sigh, pulling yourself down into the freezing water. You place your hands on his knees, balancing your chin on your arm. "I've looked at you differently, with feelings, since New Years. Junior year. You evaluate that."

He stays silent for a moment, registering your words. "I'm sorry. Goddamnit, I should've said something."

You scoff, eyeing his softened face with your bulging eyes. "We were both a little fucked up at the time. You were grumpy every day 'cause of those dual credit courses and I started getting into that eating disorder lifestyle again."

"I still have to help you with that stupid lifestyle," he whispers. He hooks his fingers underneath your chin and moves it around, turning your head in all directions. "It's not good for you," he says in a hypnotizing manner.

You shoo his hand away, regaining your posture. "I know it isn't good for me. I'm trying. Actually! I ate cake today so I think we should celebrate."

"Did you really?" He inquires, leaning down to attempt meeting you. "How should we celebrate then?"

You throw your hands over his neck and pull him into the pool, almost drowning him. He comes up and pushes you away, gaining all of his lost balance.

"God, did you try to kill me as a celebration?" He runs his hands through his hair and pushes it out of his face, swatting at his mouth even.

"No," you breathe through laughter. "Come here." You wrap your hands around his neck and plant a kiss on his lips, then one more until you think of a tease. You slowly lean in then move away, teasing the absolute hell out of him.

As you turn, Spencer grabs your chin and engulfs your face with a kiss. He holds your waist, pushing you onto the wall. You lean your head back, allowing him access to your neck.

He peppers your exposed skin with kisses, sucking gently on it. You bite down on your tongue, stopping your inhibited breaths from sputtering out of your mouth.

"You're a tease," he whispers between kisses.

"I know," you state. He stops trying to cover your neck with kisses and returns to your lips, resting on pecks instead of fully swallowing your face.

"I think you're the best birthday gift I got."

"Really?"

"Mhm. You'll always be the best gift."

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉


	7. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

warnings: violence, blood

The pretty girls are having a staring contest. Except you aren't included and all they're doing is staring at you for as long as they can.

You slump down in your seat and lay your head on the table, the wood surface cooling your face. The cold will remove all tears that threaten to fall down your face. From your logic.

"What's wrong with you?" Sunny asks, pushing your shoulder.

"Her mom's back," Luke informs, earning an "ah" from Sunny.

"Wait, how did he know before we did?" Spencer asks in the most offended tone ever.

"Sorry, I did not know I was supposed to tell you guys the moment she pulled into the driveway," you remark, your voice shaky as if you might cry.

Suddenly you're sputtering so many words you cannot get a hang of what you're even saying.

"Y/N, hey you alright?" Sunny questions, pushing gently on your shoulder.

"She's so fucking evil, and she blames everything on me and not Penelope because in some way I'm supposed to be smarter because in some stupid way education somehow gets better in the span of a year an a half."

Spencer rubs your back, and your tears flood in, punching you in the gut. It's embarrassing crying in front of three guys, in a room full of students and girls from the infamous soccer team who adore staring at you crumble.

You lift your head and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand, groaning when everyone's eyes are on you. "One last thing. If those girls don't stop looking at me I swear I might not make it out of this place with all jewelry intact."

Spencer looks to the group of the girls you're referring to and looks back at you, his eyes falling to your tear stained face. He scoots in his chair and places his elbow on the table, leaning his head on the palm of his hand.

"Reid, I get that you guys like each other, but this sucks," Sunny clarifies, the sound of his chair pushing away sounding in your ears.

"Don't listen to him," Spencer whispers, looking directly at you.

"I'm not," you sniffle.

"You are definitely not okay, your pretty face has mascara all over it."

You laugh between sniffles, your hand coming up to wipe your nose. "Does it really?"

"Mhm," he replies. He wipes your cheeks with his soft thumb, but as he realizes it won't work, he plops his thumb inside of his mouth and returns it to your face.

You crouch away, wincing when he tries to rub his thumb—surrounded in saliva— on your skin. "No, please, you're supposed to hate germs."

He chuckles, slipping his thumb under his resting arm. He leans over to you and kisses your cheek, whispering into your ear. "Go get cleaned up, it makes me sad when you're sad and I don't think you wanna see me cry."

You giggle quietly, shaking your head. "I think it would be a lovely sight to see. You, Spencer Reid, would be pretty when you cry."

"I don't think you want to see that," he continues. He looks at you with sympathy and you turn away, back to the girls you despise. He notices and takes your chin into his fingertips, turning your head to him and planting a chaste kiss to your lips. "They won't hurt you."

"They will, I'm telling you," you whisper. "Look at them, they're blood hungry."

"No, they won't. I promise you," he retorts.

"Fine," you stand up and push your chair in, seeming as small as possible as you walk out of the cafeteria. The girl's eyes remain on you but you keep your eyes forward, letting them burn holes into your body.

You exit the room and take a right, making your way towards the restroom. You look behind yourself to make sure someone isn't behind you, then quickly enter the restroom.

It's surprisingly empty for it to be lunchtime, but you don't jinx it. You look in the mirror and groan, taking in the sight of gray mascara residue. It isn't horrendous, but it isn't beautiful.

You grab a paper towel from the dispenser and turn on the warm water, running the brown piece of paper under. You blot the paper underneath your eyes, making sure not to rub your skin. The coarseness of the sheet still manages to scratch at your skin, but it's bearable.

Your eyeliner is smudged on the side and instead of using the sandpaper, you cover your index finger with your black hoodie sleeve and run it under the water. You gently rub the corner of your eye as well as underneath, removing all black makeup from your face.

Your eye-bags are heavier than usual, looking as if you have water balloons under your eyes. You turn off the warm water and turn the cold knob, running your fingertips under the water and blotting your cheeks with them.

You turn off the water and look into the mirror, turning your head from side to side as you lean in, staring at your complexion. You look incredibly tired, which you are. You sleep, but it's restless and despite sleeping for the recommended number of hours, you still wake up as if you only slept for two.

"You need sleep," you scoff, turning away and exiting the bathroom. You reach the water fountain and bend down, pushing on the side of the machine to allow water to shoot out. You take a sip of the nasty cold water and back away, wiping your mouth.

You begin towards the cafeteria, but as you suspected, Jennifer slams her locker door and blocks you from going anywhere. This seems like a movie playing out in front of you, one that you cannot pause and click out of. You don't have an option to go back into the restroom.

"Question. How hard can you punch?" She asks, walking in closer to you.

You look around the hallway, spotting anyone who passes by. There is no way she's angry at you for kissing Spencer Reid. And if that's the reason she's asking the question, she must be more obsessed than you thought.

She cheated on Spencer, so the issue with her becoming angry over something that doesn't involve her anymore is childlike. She's creating a problem that doesn't need to be created.

"Hard enough. Why?" You scoff, keeping your stance in the middle of the hallway. You wonder if anyone knows she's gone.

"I want to see how hard you can fight back when I beat the hell out of you," she says.

You shake your head, your eyes narrowed on the blonde girl with a tracksuit on. Even when she's the bitchiest girl in school, she's the prettiest. So natural she doesn't even need makeup.

"Wait, is it because Spencer kissed me? Look Jennifer I'm sorry, I didn't ask him to kiss me," you reply, taking a slow step backwards. Fighting is not what you want to do. Especially over a teenage boy.

She continues stepping closer to you, rather quickly. Now you're just waiting for a director to come out and yell "CUT!" But no one is and you question if you're even going to fight back.

You've been doing well in school and you don't want to be suspended for a fight. Again, over a boy who has no care in the world about Jennifer. But you aren't going to let someone slap and punch you while you stand there.

You stop moving and allow her to come up to you, landing a slap shaking your cheek. You turn away, facing the left wall of the hallways, right at the "no bullying zone," poster stuck to the wall. Ironic.

"That one hurt," you state, rubbing your cheek. "I like it when people do that though so please do it again."

Her eyebrows crease and she looks at you in disgust, calling you a slut by only her face expression. She grabs your face with her hand and turns you to her, squeezing your jaw.

You look up as she spits her nasty words, then kick her right in the gut as she whispers her favorite word: "whore."

She backs up and instead of allowing her to slap you around again, you go for a punch. It doesn't work out as you'd planned though because a strong hand grabs your arm before you make any impact. Another hand grabs your left arm and holds you back.

The goddamn soccer team, you groan. "You're really going to all take turns? Jennifer, that must be the weakest thing ever."

She laughs, shrugging her shoulders mockingly. The strongest, most muscular girl on the team steps out and looks you right in your face, appearing almost sympathetic for what she's told to do.

"Yes, we are," Jennifer laughs.

The girl winds back her arm, her fist becoming tighter and tighter. You close your eyes, waiting for it all to be over. You have an English quiz fifth period and if you have to be stuck in the nurses and or principals office for the rest of the day, you'll die.

The strong girl's fist flies into your stomach and you bite down on your lip, a metallic taste filling your mouth. Blood, and it won't only be drawing from your lip. You'll be a bloody mess in only a couple of minutes.

The girl continues punching you, the team pushing you against the lockers as each one of them lands a punch to your stomach, face, anywhere available. It's as if you're a target and they're throwing darts at the red, except the lines are thicker and they're exceptionally good at the game.

You close your eyes though out, in case they punch your eye and you find it rolling out of your eye socket. You count the seconds as they pass by, giving yourself a high five— not literally— when you hit a minute. Everyone notices the soccer team missing and Spencer, Sunny, and Luke realize you aren't there either.

The students file out of the cafeteria and pile into the hallway, watching as you get the absolute shit beaten out of you. You try your best to crouch away from them, huddle into a ball so they only catch your back and "unnecessary" limbs. It doesn't work though because they throw you onto the floor but keep your arms beside your head.

The more they kick and scratch and punch, the more your stomach turns and your body aches and aches. You're sure you might die, but you know you won't. Anything would be better than getting kicked by a bunch of girls who kick soccer balls on a daily basis.

Your body stinks of blood and you can already sense you look worse than Spencer Reid. He looks bad ass from those bruises he received, but you're sure you look like a victim of a five year old with a makeup pallet.

Laughs and the clicking of cameras fills your ears and there's nothing else you can head but that. You can't even process the pain anymore, nor the shouting of what you think is Rossi and Strauss.

You can only sense it when the punches slow down and you open your eyes to the shining overhead lights. Rossi pushes the girls aside and the security guards pull them away, the girl who first landed a punch on you relaxing in the tall man's arms. You know you shouldn't feel bad for her, but you do. She was probably forced to do what she did.

"Hey kid, come on," Rossi says, reaching his hand out to you. You nod and take his hand, standing weakly from the floor. Your stomach aches and your calves are prickling.

"Holy sh-" Sunny's voice is loud, worried. Terrified. You look to your right and he comes up next to you, Spencer and Luke following behind him. They both come to you and you roll your eyes softly, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

Spencer wraps his arm around your waist and Sunny does as well, Luke displaying a face of complete terror. It's as if he's never seen the victim of an entire athletic team jumping one singular girl.

Rossi shouts at the crowd of teenagers, shooing them away and telling them to get to class. You lean your head on Spencer's shoulder, paying no mind to the blood that drips down your nose. He says nothing and so will you.

Rossi turns the corner and beelines to the office, making sure he's the first to get there and not the group of girls. He shakes his head when he sees Strauss laughing with the girls, rubbing their shoulders and paying every inch of attention to Jennifer who's rubbing her stomach.

You did kick her, but she's a big girl, she can handle it.

You walk through the hundreds of hallways and finally reach the office, Rossi holding the door open for you to walk through. You enter first, Spencer promptly entering and grabbing hold of your waist. You slide away his hand, offering a pursed smile. "I'm okay," you whisper to him.

He nods and you walk through the office, Rossi leading you to the nurses office. He waves at you to enter and you follow inside, sitting yourself on the dark blue, hard bed. You place your hands between your thighs and look ahead, distracting yourself with the large diagram of a skeleton.

Spencer, Luke and Sunny enter and sit down next to you, Luke sitting to your left, Spencer sitting to your right and Sunny sitting across from you. The nurse turns to you and her eyes almost pop out of her head. "Oh my goodness, what happened to you?"

Rossi sighs, shaking his head as he takes a long look at you. "A fight."

She cranes her neck forward, her eyes practically inches away from yours at this point. "And you didn't think about punching back, sweetheart?"

You press your lips together, staring at her blankly. "Rossi left out a detail, ma'am, I was-"

"Your nose is bleeding," she states, pointing at your nose.

You run your fingers underneath your nose and bring them up to your eyes, seeing the bright red blood pool on your fingertips. You instantly lean your head back and hold your nose, staring at the ceiling until Spencer replaces your fingers with a paper towel. He holds the back of your head while pressing the paper to your nostrils.

"Okay sweetheart, continue," the nurse says, clearly wanting to know more about the event.

"I couldn't do anything because they held my arms back. Can't really kick yourself out of that." Spencer folds the piece of paper and places it underneath your nose once more, pushing your head forward and wiping away at your skin before removing the paper entirely.

"Wow. Their asses are lucky I wasn't there," she jokes, swiveling in her chair and opening a drawer.

"Very. Those girls are definitely getting kicked out of that team, suspended too," Rossi states, looking at the nurse as she prepares the alcohol wipes and ointment.

You scrunch your eyebrows and turn to the gray haired principal, shaking your head at his statement. "You're kicking them off of the team?" As much as you hate them, you don't want them to be kicked out of the team, dozens of people attend their games.

Plus, they won't bother you after school due to their practices taking place as soon as the dismissal bell rings.

"Yes," he says slowly, as if he's confused.

"Don't," you state.

"Y/N," Spencer whispers, squeezing your thigh. You look down at his blood stained, vein filled hand, then up to his worried face. "Why are you being so sympathetic?"

You shrug your shoulders, keeping a dull face. "They will leave me alone if they spend their entire life on the field. Just don't kick them off Rossi, please." You bite down on your lip, ignoring the throbbing feeling that pulsates through your mouth and follows down your body.

"Okay then kiddo," he sighs, his voice fed up with every student, even you, and he loves you. "Also, I need some information. So Hill, Alvez, if you know anything please stay, and if you don't then could you go back to class?"

Your eyes flick to Sunny and Luke, who have both gotten up and started towards the door. Your eyes remain on them as Sunny comes to a halt, brushing arms against Rossi. "I know everything, but I think it's best for Y/N to tell you. Also, Jennifer should be expelled. I don't agree with her still being here."

"Thanks kid," Rossi whispers. Sunny exits the room and Rossi closes the door, leaving you and Spencer snug together. "So, Miss Y/L/N, please tell me what happened."

The nurse comes in front of you and tilts your face towards her, taking a small alcohol wipe and wiping away the blood stains. You cringe at the sting, clenching your hands as she continues to move down your face. Spencer grabs your hand and squeezes it tightly, running his thumb over your knuckles.

You take in a deep breath, holding it in for five seconds before exhaling. You hum lowly before speaking, beginning with mumbled words as the nurse works on cleaning your face. "So I'm assuming she has been plotting this for like three days because Thursday was when..."

"Was when what?"

You consider telling him what happened on Thursday. How Jennifer was being an absolute bitch to you despite you trying your best to be nice to her. Then how she was caught kissing someone who wasn't Spencer Reid. It all adds on to her reasons to create a plan to fight you.

"Kiddo, when what?" Rossi repeats, moving in behind the nurse.

Only today, you tell yourself. Only tell him about today. "Well nothing happened on Thursday, but she kept looking at me. Then today she saw Spencer kiss me so I guess that set her off."

"You and Reid are dating, I'm assuming?" He asks, tilting his head to look at your hand in Spencer's.

The nurse stops wiping your face, removing the alcohol wipe and throwing it onto her lap. You look down at the wipe. It's filled with blood, all shades despite the cuts being recent. You look back up at Rossi, whose eyes are still glued onto you.

"I mean we've been friends forever but recently I guess it's taken a turn?" Your sentence is more like a question, yourself wondering if what's kindling between you and Spencer means more than a kiss and a hand hold.

"So this was over a boy?" He looks at you, then at Spencer Reid.

Heat crawls onto your cheeks, warming not only your face but your neck and chest. It's rather embarrassing realizing that you've been in a fight due to a boy. That boy being Spencer. Spencer Reid is amazing and you care dearly about him, but physically fighting a girl is questionable. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Okay well I'll leave you here to get cleaned up, I'll be back if I need anything else." He nods his head and slowly exits the room, leaving the door open on his way out.

"Over this boy?" the nurse asks, a laugh emerging in her throat.

Spencer remains silent. You can't bring yourself to see him, but it's likely his face is painted red. "What? You don't think he's worthy enough to be fought over?" You laugh, biting down on your lip as she returns with ointment.

"Well he is a cute one, but still, you don't need to fight over no boy," she smooths the paste over your cuts and rolls back to her desk, reaching over behind her computer into a jar. She takes out a small hershey kiss and returns, opening your free hand and plopping it onto your palm.

"Oh, I don't- I'm not hungry," you tell her, handing it back to her.

She shakes her head, pushing your hand away. "No, take it. A kiss to make you feel better."

"O-kay, thank you." You place the kiss into your pocket and avert your focus to Spencer, who's visibly in pain. "What?" you ask, your voice happier than it should be.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, grabbing your hand and entwining his fingers in yours.

"For?"

"Y/N," Rossi peers through the room, his voice soft yet strong enough to catch your attention. "Your mother is here, would you like to speak to her?"

"No." Your face falls at the thought of your mother. She's returned from vacation and she's been called. She never cares about you, whether you've been in a car crash or something small like this fight.

"Really? She seems worried."

"She always looks like that. She doesn't care. I don't want to speak with her, just tell her I'm okay," you state bluntly, looking away from Rossi.

"Y/N," Spencer whispers, straightforward.

"I don't want to talk to her. Tell her some girls kicked my ass and she can see all of my battle scars when I get home, please. I don't want to see her right now."

"I'm sorry but she's coming, she won't listen," he grumbles, moving out of the doorway.

The sound of heels clacking on the carpet sparks fear inside of you, making you absolutely scared to death at what she might say and how she will scream her heart out. She doesn't care about who's around, she'll curse and slap and scratch until you receive the message that she's disgusted in you. Then to finish it all off, she'll say: "I love you baby."

Rossi tries to block your mom from the doorway, hovering her hands in front of her as she pushes her way to the office. You bite down on your tongue, blocking the sound that threatens to shoot into your ears.

It's awful hearing her shout her way through the hallway. It's as if she has no manners. She peers through the doorway and takes a look at you, her eyes widening and her mouth quivering. She's an amazing actress.

"Oh my god. Oh my god can we sue? Can we sue?" she exclaims, covering her mouth with her hands.

You roll your eyes, averting your focus back to the skeleton poster. "Mom, please. I'm fine, just go home!"

"No you're not, look at you! It looks like a pack of angry men jumped you."

You scoff, closing your eyes momentarily. "Not men, women. But I'm fine mom, go home."

"Y/N! Come on you're causing a scene. Let me come in there," she cries and cries, her lungs managing to keep working.

"Please go home," you continue, tears pricking your eyes. It's overwhelming. Too much sound as so little space to hide away in.

"Fine! You know what, fine. But you can kiss your car and all of that stupid shit you have in your room goodbye. Find a way to get home." She stomps her feet and turns, exiting in an exaggerated manner.

You turn your head to Spencer, letting your tears fall when he meets your eyes. He seems so unbothered, but he certainly isn't. No one is after that.

"Why are you so cool about this happening?" he questions. He rubs your knee with his thumb, running up and down your thigh.

You shrug. "When it's happened for so long you just get used to it. I've given up on her already. She won't change."

Spencer wipes your tears as best he can without scratching your cuts. It burns— the tears— but it feels so good.

Spencer loves you, cares for you to the moon and back. He'll protect you in every way, shape and form, but he's overwhelmed.

No one sees this and thinks "this is a normal daughter- mother relationship." Absolutely no one.

Your mom shouts and cries as a form of making you feel guilty, and it worked in the beginning, but now it doesn't.

And no matter how many I love you's she ties on the awfully wrapped present, it won't trick you. Ever. 

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉


	8. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ

Luke appreciation because he deserves more love ♥. 

Your face aches and your ribs are sore from the fight on Monday. You were told to stay home for a couple of days but the thought of going to your house was suffocating.

You did follow their suggestions and didn't come to school, but you stayed at Spencer's house. And he stayed with you. It was an amazing two days spent, but you were informed that your mom left once more so you decided it was time to go.

Spencer kissed every one of your scratches and bruises goodbye and you went on your way, back to your house. He offered to drive you, but you preferred walking home for alone time. You didn't have much time to realize what had happened so a long walk was necessary.

When you made it into your driveway, it was as if you could feel the negativity waft into your nose and flood down your body. She wasn't home, but she left her scent throughout the house. It was unbearable.

The second you entered the house, you played every single good energy flowing song available and walked around the house, holding burning incense in hand. You weren't going to have someone come into your home—practically yours— and strut around spewing bad energy.

After you paraded around, you fell onto your bed and slept. And you've been sleeping continuously, only getting up for water and the restroom or for something small to eat. That guilty pleasure being the same pretzels you tried at the Halloween dance.

You've been awake for longer than usual. You usually take a ten minute break then return to watching romance movies in bed and crying as if you've gone through a devastating heartbreak, but you've been walking around for an hour.

You've taken a bath filled with lavender bath bubbles, read a few chapters of the most devastating book ever, and now taking a bite out of the lasagna Penelope purchased from the store. It tastes frozen, clearly from the store, but it's okay.

You place the aluminum foil back onto the tray and take it to the fridge, opening the doors and pushing the tray inside. You grab a bottle of water and close the refrigerator doors, beginning your trip back to your room.

You sense someone coming towards the front door and you halt, slowly inching towards the entrance. You stand quietly, waiting for a knock to scare the living hell out of you. No one presses the doorbell, although it is there and on full display.

Knuckles bang against the front door and you jolt out of your stance, quickly running to the living room to drop your water bottle on the couch. You return to the entrance and open the door, inching it open until you see the face on the other side.

Luke. "Hey," you say, fully opening the door. And his mom.

His mom's eyes bulge out of her head and she gasps loudly, her hand instantly flying to your face. She presses her soft hands on your cheek. "¿Que pasó?"

You scoff, smiling at the immediate state of worry. "Una pelea." Your Spanish skills have finally come to use, you tell yourself.

"A fight?" She has a bit of a Mexican accent. "¿Tú peleas?"

You flick your eyes to Luke, whose eyes are wide and begging for you to correct yourself. You look back at his mom and you instantly fix your mistake. "No! No, I don't. A lot of girls fought me. El equipo de fútbol tomo turnos golpearme."

She gasps once more, taking her hand back and covering her mouth. "Díos mio, que cabronas."

"Mámi," Luke says through gritted teeth, embarrassment lacing his muffled words.

She smacks Luke's arm, pushing him to the side as she continues looking at you with care. "Are you okay now? Do you need, ah, manzanilla tea? It's good for... ¿mijo para que esta bueno el té?"

"Chamomile tea. You do know what it's good for, right?" Luke asks, bouncing on the heels of his feet.

He stands over his mom, which you find to be adorable. You can tell he loves her by the way he scoots in closer and closer to her despite her pushing him away. They love one another. It's clear they have a good relationship.

You nod, your smile brightening at the sight of Luke and his mom. "Yeah, my sister Penelope makes some for me every night."

"That's very good. It's good for anxiety and estrés. Y tambien para insomnia. You look very tired mija," she proceeds.

"I am, a little," you laugh. You nod and look out at them, the silence killing you but the feeling of something else said jabs at your stomach.

"Mami, ¿no tenía algo que decirle?" Luke asks his mom, looking at you with eager eyes.

"Sí, I did. First, how is my son when he's around you and your friends?"

"Good, he's a very nice boy. He follows rules and is a gentleman." It's a half lie. Luke is a gentleman, but he doesn't follow rules. He's actually gone out of his way to break all rules.

She smiles, shining her sparkling white teeth. She looks like Luke, with her chubby cheeks and plump lips. She has black wavy hair that's braided into a singular braid, laid on her right shoulder.

"He gets that from me. I showed him how to be a nice man. I'm glad he's acting like I taught him," she claims, seeming more than satisfied with her son.

Luke is exceptionally sweet and you thank his mom for raising him well, he's proven himself to be one hell of a man. To be quite honest, there's not many of him left and you're glad you've got him as your friend. He's amazing.

"Well it's working," you tell her.

"So, to not get you bored, I will tell you what I'm here for. You are a very good... eres muy buena compañia para mi hijo. You are a very good friend and model," she starts, pausing every few words to translate what she has to say.

Your head bobs up and down and your smile stays on while she continues complimenting you on how well a person you are. It swells your heart with incredible amounts of love and it's odd, but you enjoy it. Your mom never compliments you, so her simply stating your characteristics makes you glow.

"Thank you, gracias. Luke talks a lot about how amazing you are," you muse, raising your eyebrows at the lady. "He's a momma's boy."

"De verdad?"

"Yes, I am being honest with you Mrs. Alvez."

She exhales and gives a smile, clicking her tongue as she rests on a topic. "Well I just wanted to say that I think you are very responsible and I trust you with my son. If you have fun out of the house and he's invited, take him with you."

Your mouth parts, a smile beginning to pull at your lips. "Oh wow, thank you. I actually was planning something today, so if he'd like to stay, he can."

"Sí, yes por favor I am tired of him," she grabs his arms and shoves him inside, his muscular body pushing against yours.

You step back and wave her a goodbye, your smile glued to your lips as you close the door. You lock the door and turn to Luke, who's blankly staring at you. "Is my beauty distracting you?" you ask sarcastically.

"Oh yes pretty girl it definitely is," he teases, shining the exact replica of his mother's teeth.

You push his shoulder and walk back into the living room, directing him towards the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?"

"What do you have?" he asks, catching up to you.

"Beer. Wine coolers, etcetera etcetera, you know I have it all," you state, quickly opening the refrigerator and moving aside so he can take a look inside.

"Uhh, I'll take a wine cooler," he says, grabbing a lemonade wine cooler.

You close the doors and reach for the bottle cap opener, handing it to him. He pops the top off on your kitchen counter, avoiding the one second wait. "O'kay then strong guy," you whisper, placing the bottle cap opening back into its place.

You lift yourself onto the kitchen counter and Luke leans back, crossing his legs together. He takes a sip of his drink and places it down next to him. "Where do you even get these?"

"When your mom wants you to forget about all the shit she says and does she just buys you alcohol," you state, watching him for his reaction.

"Wait, really?"

"No," you scoff, shaking your head. "Well, kind of. I write a list for Penelope and she gives it to my mom. She buys it because it's Penelope and if that doesn't work she gives it to Derek's older sister."

He raises his eyebrows, slowly coming to terms with how difficult that is for cases of alcohol. You understand as well, but you don't say anything. Everything about the relationship with your family is difficult and he must know so as well. He's simply refrain himself from asking any more questions. Why as when you already know enough?

"So, your mom thinks I'm a good role model?" you ask.

His shoulders slump down and you smirk, laughing softly at his shaking head. He breathes in and exhales, obviously not fond of the assumption that you're all good. "Yeah, she does."

You enjoy the thought of someone's parent thinking of you as a good role model. You definitely aren't the best but you don't motivate your friends to break every single law, that is up to them. You don't want them to be locked up with no experience of the world either, but if they take freedom to a next level, that is their decision.

"What if she knew about the stuff you did, good boy?"

"I think she would kill you. She would say you're filling her baby boy with demons," he tells you, grabbing his drink and taking a sip.

You jump off of the counter with a sigh, looking him straight in his eyes with all seriousness. "Well we better not get caught. Come on, let's go to my room."

He follows you out of the kitchen and up to your room, all done with no peep out of him. He slows down while going up the stairs, looking at the family portraits that begin with the entire family, then end with only you and Penelope.

You stop at the top, turning to look at him still midway. "Pictures of the once happy family," you joke, biting down on your tongue to stop you from saying any more sarcastic sentences.

He slowly ascends the stairs, his eyes moving up and down as he jumps from picture to picture. "This was you?" He points to one specific picture, one you're sure was from middle school.

You step down the stairs and take a look at the picture he's referring to. From middle school it is. "Oh god, I looked horrible back then. What do you think about me now? The prettiest?" You place your hands under your chin, moving them around as if someone is taking pictures of you.

"Definitely. Might just sneak this one home," he teases, moving along the pictures on the wall.

You stopped looking at them closely after your freshman year. Penelope was a junior which meant she could take care of you herself, and she disappeared with men from everywhere. Some of their pictures are even on the walls, which is absolutely pathetic.

Luke reaches the last picture on the wall and switches his gaze onto you, smiling widely at the two girls on the wall. "A photoshoot between you and Penelope?"

You nod, smiling through your clenched teeth. "One day Penelope thought it would be a good idea to have a photoshoot because we didn't have any updated family pictures. She chose a hot pink glittery background and a bunch of unicorn stuffed animals."

"I can see. And you're telling me that you're used to all that... brightness?"

"I love it," you tell him.

You both finish viewing the picture and move along to your room, entering the messy room full of pillows and large fluffy sheets. You plop down on top of your bed and Luke takes a seat on the floor, on top of the other mountain of pillows and sheets.

He grabs a stress ball from the floor and rolls it in his hand, throwing it into the air. "So, what did you have planned?"

"Nothing, just wanted to hang out. We never do. But if you'd like to hang out we can, Sunny and Spencer usually come after school. I just don't know where they are right now," you respond, your tone apologetic for lying. You probably got hopes high.

"They were at school today. Spencer had to go to Strauss' office though, he um..." Luke trails off, not stopping to tell you about Spencer's visit to Strauss' office.

"Luke, what is it?" You scoot up on the bed and grab his chin, forcing him to look up at you. "What did that bitch boy do today?"

He sighs, forming a bubble in his mouth before opening his mouth to tell you. He looks at you slyly, like he holds something controversial and he might get in trouble for sharing the information. You want to know nonetheless, it's about Spencer.

"Fine. He got in an argument with JJ in the cafeteria about what happened to you. He was calm at first but then JJ started crying, obviously to cause a scene. She was laughing and joking around after but Spencer was picked up by Strauss," he finally says, gazing into your eyes to make sure you believe him.

You let go of his chin and look to the side, taking a break from his face. You aren't angry with Spencer, but what he did was unnecessary and may have started problems again. You enjoy him being protective over you, but if Sunny said nothing and was able to keep his composure while around her, then Spencer could definitely have.

"What did he tell her?" you question.

"He was asking her why she did what she did and why the hell they hated you so much when you did nothing," he replies, saying it all with a monotone voice. "I don't think I've ever heard him cuss so much."

"Wow," you whisper, clicking your tongue at the processed information. Spencer looked after you, he cares. The only issue is he got into trouble doing so. And you don't want him getting himself into problems all due to you.

"You know he did it cause he cares, right?"

"I don't think he did it 'cause he hates me Luke," you retort.

"I don't think he did it cause he hates me Luke," he teases, throwing the ball at you. You grab it and throw it at his head, earning a groan from him. "Ouch, chica, has anyone asked you to be a pitcher for their baseball team?"

"Haha, I just have a good arm," you joke.

Luke begins massaging the back of his head, messing up with gelled back curls. "Yeah I can tell." He leans back on the pillows and stares up at the ceiling, counting all of your posters. "Your mom never took all of your shit?"

"No, she wouldn't have done it. She just says it to scare me," you reply, leaning back on your pillows.

"I'm sorry that your mom is like that," he whispers, close to being inaudible as if he's scared you won't agree with him.

You do. You don't know how you wouldn't agree. "It's okay, I have Penelope. And you guys."

"But we're not your mom," he continues in a whisper.

"I know," you state.

You know neither of them are parental figures, but you've forced yourself to view them as individuals who will protect you and people who you can look up to as a parent. You wish your mom was present so you didn't have to view either of them as such, but she isn't.

"So, questions for the quiet boy." You change subjects because continuing the conversation about motherly presence and an argument over you was not enjoyable. Asking questions about the one who shares nothing about himself is rather enjoyable.

"Go on pretty lady."

"Have you ever had a girlfriend? You never told us about one," you ask, rolling onto your side and peering over the bed to him.

His tongue move throughout his mouth, poking at his cheeks as if he's gathering an answer. "I did. Before I moved here, I was dating someone and she was the most beautiful girl ever."

You places your hands underneath your chin, leaning in to hear the story Luke has hidden from everyone. "Go on, I wanna hear the story."

He laughs, but continues with the story. "It was a corny story. A dating storyline that could be put into some high school show. She lived in the upper east side of Manhattan and I, well I lived in a small apartment in The Bronx. I had to ride the subway for thirty plus minutes every time I wanted to see her. That's a lot of money you have to put in a damn metro card."

"Did you really have to put a bunch of money in those cards? Or did you just jump some of them?" You look at Luke, spotting the small lie in his smile.

You've been to New York. Sometimes the metro card doesn't pass through no matter how much money you put into it, therefore you must jump or crawl your way in or find a door to sneak your way in.

The police don't care, either. New York police walk around not paying mind to the dozens of people jaywalking and crossing busy streets. A simple jumping into the subway without passing a metro card means nothing to them.

"Okay, yeah. I may have jumped a lot, and pushed open emergency exit doors, but that's not the point. What is the point is that I did a lot just to see her for two hours. Then I had to move and I couldn't see her on my last day because she didn't like coming to The Bronx. Scary borough for a Manhattan girl," he sighs.

His eyes close for a moment and you frown. He clearly misses the relationship, even if he may be over it. You can miss relationships and the person you shared so much with despite moving on. That makes sense... right?

"How long were you guys dating?" you ask in a low register.

"Ten months. We were talking for four months before I asked her to be my girlfriend. I met her at Central Park. Winter time, sophomore year, decided to go there to skate but when I showed up it was packed. I sat down by this small bridge and she came walking down these steps with her dog," he sputters out the story, all done absentmindedly. It's likely he hasn't told many people this. "She sat down next to me on this bench that had names engraved into the backs and she started listing off who they were and what they did, it was cool. She was a smart girl."

"That's sweet. I'm sorry that you guys had to break up. You know you didn't have to, right? New York is only four hours away," you state, looking at him with sympathetic eyes.

He bites down on his lip and shrugs, taking the ball you threw at him and pushing it into the air. "Yeah but I knew it wasn't going to work. It was one of those relationships you know isn't going to last forever."

"Oh."

"Yeah, but it's okay. I've moved on, crushed on older women who shall not be named."

"God, Luke you must know that we tell each other everything," you move back on your bed, laying your head on your pillow.

"I know, but that information is private. 100% private," he emphasizes.

A car booming rock music echoes through the street, the song Sunny has been irking everyone with in specific playing. You roll your eyes and stand up from your bed, stumbling over Luke towards the window.

Sure enough, it's Spencer and Sunny. "Thing one and thing two," you alert, groaning at the sight of Spencer.

You are well with confrontation if it is with your friends, but this time is not fun. You don't want to confront Spencer on what he did, but you have to. This time you were involved in the issue and you have to bring it up.

You slump towards the door, your shoulders dragging and your feet shuffling on the floor. You open the door and trot down the stairs, racing to the door to open it as soon as they lift a knuckle.

You open the door and there they are, lifting a knuckle. You offer a fake smile, one you've dragged your lips to put on. "Hello, it's nice to see you, Sunny."

Spencer's eyebrows knit together, confused at your lack of inclusion. He remains quiet though, standing off to the side with his stretched out collared sweaters, hands in his pockets.

"You look badass now," Sunny says, storming into your house.

"Very, don't I?" You push him to the side and direct him up the stairs, satisfied when the sound of his shoes hitting the stairs rings in your ear.

You wait a second and then jut your head behind you, motioning for Spencer to come inside. You close the door and turn to the kitchen, grabbing Spencer's hand and pulling him along with you.

You enter the kitchen and you stand in front of him, looking into his dilated eyes which stream guilt. "You're a hypocrite."

"What?" he asks softly, his nose scrunching up at the anger spewing from your head.

"You told me not to fight over you and then you went off and argued with fucking Jennifer. Spencer Reid I love the hell out of you but why did you do that?" You place your hands on his shoulders, running them up to the sides of his neck.

His lips part and he mouths words, shutting his mouth tightly before coming to you with an answer. "You're mad at me because I stood up for you? I'm sorry, okay. If you wanted to talk to her yourself then I'm sorry but-"

"I thought I handled things."

His eyebrows crease and he narrows his eyes, as if you've disappointed him. "You didn't handle anything. Hon, they beat the absolute shit out of you. They messed up your pretty little face and you couldn't even tell them anything."

"And Spencer, you talking to Jennifer wasn't going to fix anything. All it did was make them hate me even more," you breathe, tightly shutting your eyes. "I don't want to sound scared of them, but I kind of am. They kicked me so hard I couldn't breathe, Spencer."

He wraps his arms around your body and places his chin on your shoulder, gently rubbing your back. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."

"No. I got mad for no reason and now look at me. I was just angry three seconds ago," you mumble, tightly wrapping your arms around him.

"You usually are like that," he laughs, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck. He plants soft kisses along your neck, then jaw and along every scratch on your face.

You move your chin, pushing him away so you can look at him. He catches the memo and flicks his eyes up to yours, his honey eyes melting you down. Beautiful to look at him, no words even manage to slip past your mouth.

You press a kiss to his lips and he holds your chin, your noses passing one another as Spencer's soft hold turns into a tight grasp on your face. It's filled with anger, annoyance but a hint of love and affection. He's forgiving, and despite your forgiving tone, there's still a taste of disappointment that lingers between you.

You run your hands into his hair, disheveling it more than it was before. You pull on the hair on the nape of his neck and pull his head back, giving you access to the blank canvas of his neck.

You pepper his pale skin with kisses, sucking gently on his collarbone until it turns red, the dark purple beginning to splotch around. It'll be darker soon, but it's been left on his collarbone, an area he can cover up.

You look up at him, a mischievous smirk laid upon your lips. His mouth is parted and his hair is messier than before, making him truly look a part of a boyband.

He quickly hugs your neck with his hands, his vein filled arm causing your eyes to pop. His hands are always the first thing that catches your eye. He brings his lips to your neck and plants violent kisses on your skin, lowering them down to your chest.

He pushes down your v-neck and attacks the top of your breast, kissing and sucking until a dark purple mark is left on your skin. "Fuck," you moan under your breath.

"One for one," he mumbles, lifting up your shirt. He kisses your lip and hovers them over, his peppermint breath flowing down your skin. "Maybe another time we can go further."

You swallow the lump in your throat, your body burning in ever place he set his fingers on. You want to go further, allow him to slip his hands underneath your pants and kiss you wherever he pleases. This is just a taste for what he could do.

"Maybe."

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉


	9. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ

warnings: slight smut 

The mark Spencer left on you was a sight you kept on looking at; lifting your shirt and looking at the dark purple with splotches of red all around. It was a mark that kept you longing for something to happen. Something more than just a hickey.

You kept wishing for Spencer to kiss further down your body, not just the tops of your breasts and shoulders. Having his kiss every inch of your body is a scenario you have replayed in your mind over and over and over again. It's deadly.

He does it to tease you. He will take your shirt off and kiss your shoulders and breasts and down your stomach, following the path of your stretch marks, but will end his trip as soon as he reaches the waistband of your bottoms.

You groan and moan but he pays no mind. He says: "Try to... practice first. To see what you like." Meaning he's asking you to please yourself before you allow him to please you.

And you have. You've tried to and now you know. Know enough. And the thought of Spencer's hands roaming your body instead of yours turns you on even more, but the thought of sex remains frightening. You don't want to give him the worst experience ever and have him running off in an instant.

But you also don't want to be uncomfortable. You know that it can be uncomfortable losing your virginity, with all of the friction that can cause slight discomfort, but it doesn't happen to everyone. And you hope that when you do lose it, that won't be you.

"It's raining," Spencer informs, poking your arm with his pencil.

"Huh?" You blink your way out of your daydream, focusing on the window. It's pouring outside. Droplets of water smash against the windows and pound on the roof, so loudly you mistake it for hail. "Oh, yeah. The weather said there was a 90% chance."

He props his head on the palm of his hand, peering down at you as you pick up your pencil. You feel his eyes on you, drilling into the side of your face. Your face grows warm as he continues looking at you, the one second turning into hundreds of seconds.

"What?" you ask him.

"You usually like the rain. You play old movies or read books under your covers. You look like you hate it right now." He takes your pencil from your hand and places it on your desk, grabbing your fingers instead. He has a thing for playing with hands. Your hands.

You shrug. "I am liking it. Just wasn't paying attention to it."

He traces the lines on your palm, bending your fingers as he moves to each one. "You're thinking."

"People always think."

"Now you're just stalling."

"Mhm, just stating a fact." You flick your eyes up at the clock and back down to your hand, eager for the class to end so you can go to Theatre.

Spencer clicks his tongue, taking in a deep breath and exhaling as if he's annoyed. No reason to be annoyed, unless he is because you won't tell him what you've been thinking about. You just can't tell him. Telling someone you keep daydreaming about them ripping your clothes off and fucking you literally any and everywhere is not a good English class topic of conversation.

"You can learn a lot about someone through their eyes you know," he whispers.

"Oh yeah? Then please fill me in on what you've learned," you respond. You avert your eyes to his, watching as his lips turn up into a smile.

"Okay, maybe I haven't learned A LOT from your eyes but I can tell from your composure." His eyes roam down your face and visible body, then back to your eyes. "You keep staring out of the window. All there is is a track and a bunch of trees. You keep pressing your lips together and you will not stop crossing your legs."

Your body freezes and you swallow the brick in your throat. How much does he pay attention to you?

"Daydreaming. That's my conclusion."

You purse your lips, poking your tongue around your mouth. You feel somewhat attacked although he's done nothing but stage the obvious. "Might as well say what I was daydreaming about."

He laughs, moving his head forward until he's in your line of vision. He brings his bottom lip between his teeth, smiling through his bitten lip. "About me?"

You shrug your shoulders, resuming your long stare out of the window. "Maybe some other guy. A dad I'd enjoy banging. You'd never know."

"A dad you'd like to bang? You're not of age, you can't really do that yet," he follows along with the lie, a smile hidden in his words.

"There's teen dads," you whisper.

"You'd be a homewrecker?" he questions, his tone offended in some way.

You turn to look at him, giving him a disappointed look. "No, I wouldn't. You do know there's dads of all ages that are separated, right?"

"And you know there are dads that have children our age, right?" He leans his head to the side, viewing your serious expression change into a mischievous one.

"And that is stopping me how?"

He begins placing your hand back on your desk, scoffing as he does so. He scoots closer into you, so close you can now feel his breath against your neck. "You wouldn't just have sex with some older guy though... right?"

You push his face away, his hair poking your palm. "If you mean older as in you kind of older, then yes."

"You make my heart throb," he teases, grabbing your hand once more. He mumbles something underneath his breath, purposefully said inaudible so you cannot hear him. You have an idea of what he said, but thinking deeply about it raises heat in your face.

You try to pull your hand away to continue your work, but Spencer's grip on your hand is strong. You sigh. "Can't work if you're holding my hand the entire time."

"That's okay," he says in a monotone voice. "You have good grades, a little assignment won't hurt."

You scoff, shaking your head at his assumption. You are smart and you do have good grades, but somehow when you miss one assignment, your grade drops fifty points. "What is it with you and hands? I think I should be the one obsessed with yours."

"I just like holding your hand. Soothes anxiety," he states, tracing your palm once more.

"You're anxious?" you ask him, looking down at his resting head.

"No, I just want to hold your hand," he replies.

"If this work doesn't get done in the next thirty minutes I'm gonna make you-"

"Y/N, Spencer," your teacher announces, grabbing your attention. Spencer let's go of your hand and you both instantly look up, acknowledging the woman who called on you. "Rossi's office. He needs you guys."

You nod and stand up, grabbing your piece of paper and pencil from the desk. You throw your backpack strap onto your shoulder and push in your chair, moving away from the clustered desks.

Spencer follows behind you, scrambling to put on his backpack. You pull on the other strap of your backpack onto your shoulder and stuff your pencil into your sweatshirt, along with your now folded piece of paper.

Spencer runs up next to you, slowing down his pace. "What do you think they called us in for?"

You wonder that yourself. You haven't seen much of the girls at school since Halloween- the day they fought you- and although you know most of them have been suspended, you still receive a feeling that at least one of them was expelled. Jennifer, you hope.

"Maybe Jennifer? Haven't seen her around," you say, turning the corner. You walk down the main hallway, passing students upon students who are definitely skipping class.

He turns and places himself in front of you, walking backwards now. "What if she's expelled?"

"What if we're expelled?" You raise your eyebrows, grabbing his arm and pushing him to the side, blocking him from a student. "Careful," you whisper.

"Sorry. Well I don't see why, we didn't do anything," he replies, continuing his walk backwards. He counts his steps under his breath. Spencer knows how many steps it takes to get to the front office, from every single one of his classes.

"Maybe they found the weed in my locker," you tease, acting in surprise.

He stops in his tracks and looks at you, eyes popping out of his head in concern. "You have fucking weed in your locker?" he whispers, almost sounding as though he's speaking through clenched teeth.

"I'm not an idiot, Spencer Reid. I wouldn't do that," you retort, shaking your head.

You near the office and jut your chin towards the door, Spencer swiveling around and straightening his posture. You push open the door and hold it for a second, allowing Spencer to walk through. He whispers a thank you and you nod, not fully acknowledging his words.

You walk through the office and guide yourselves to Rossi's office, knocking gently on his door when you reach it. A muffled voice calls out and you take that as a "come in." You turn the doorknob and push the door open, Spencer quickly walking through and around you.

"Sit," Rossi tells you both, motioning to the chairs. The door shuts and you move aside, pulling out the soft, black cushioned seat.

You take off your backpack and sit down, laying it next to your feet. When you look up, Rossi's eyes are on you, flicking back and forth between you and Spencer. You plaster on a smile, awkward but enough to not scare him.

"So, you guys have been in some drama lately," he recalls. He entwines his hands in front of him, pushing aside his papers with his joined knuckles.

You stare, nodding silently. Spencer remains quiet as well. He's probably anxious right now because you can feel his hand blindly searching for yours.

"I also know that Miss Jareau has been causing you both trouble," he continues.

You nod, placing your hand in Spencer's.

"I won't speak for long because you both have a class to get to." He pauses, inhaling deeply and exhaling. "Jennifer Jareau will not be continuing her year at this school. She's caused too much trouble and she's become a threat to you and your friends."

You bite down on your lip, tightening your grip on Spencer's hand. "So no more JJ? What about the other girls?" Spencer questions, leaning forward in his chair.

"Two of her closest friends who helped plan the fight have been expelled as well. It's been said that the other soccer girls were forced to help, so they've all been suspended for a week."

So what you thought would happen did happen. No more Jennifer walking around acting as if she's the queen, and no more side kick bitches who followed her around like evil step sisters. You're glad, but your actions in the moment don't reflect so.

You simply nod and press your lips together, looking straight ahead at the gray haired man. He returns the gaze but quickly breaks it, unlocking his hands and turning to the desktop in front of him.

"Alright then, that was it. I hope you have a good day children. Stay out of trouble," he finally says after a silence.

You remove your hand from Spencer's and push back your chair, grabbing your backpack from the ground and sliding it onto your shoulder. You file out of the office quietly, pacing out of the silent room by yourself.

You aren't upset nor regretful for being the reason for Jennifer's expulsion, you're actually fucking elated that you don't get to see her face anymore. The only reason you're so quiet is because you can't fully process that she'll be gone.

You've passed by her every single day since freshman year of high school and she's made your school life hell every single one of those days. She's just gone. Poof. She was there Monday and now she's off to find a new school. Probably one that sucks because there is no way a prestigious school will take her in after checking her record.

In conclusion, it's overwhelming. A YAY in lowercase is the best way you can describe it. A tired celebration, for a lack of better words.

Spencer catches up to you, panting as he slows down. "You don't look excited about this either. What's wrong?"

"I am happy. I am, trust me." You turn the hallway and begin towards the classroom, stopping midway when Spencer holds you back.

"Come on, celebrate with me?"

"Maybe we should celebrate by never bringing Jennifer up. Ever. Ever ever ever. I'm tired of that name," you input, your voice tired.

"Skip with me, please. I have something for you," he pleads, pulling at your arm as he steps back.

You look up at the ceiling, around his face and then back at him, weighing your options. You have sitting in English for thirty more minutes then going to Theatre with the best teacher created, or going with Spencer to wherever he's taking you.

It's also pouring outside, the weather only worsening as the minutes pass by. If you exit the building, you'll soak in awful rain water from head to toe. But, Spencer usually offers to take you to his house when it rains, because he has the best 80's films.

"Fine," you give in, allowing him to pull you to the secret exit you take when skipping.

He drags you out of the building, surprisingly keeping his eyes forward and not looking at all corners of the hallways. The rain beats down on you and you pull on your hoodie, the fabric only doing so much until the water seeps through.

You groan at the feeling of water seeping through your clothing, wetting your entire body. It's cold outside, early November weather smacking your face. You should be used to the coldness Virginia brings, but you aren't. For as long as you've lived there, it's only gotten worse.

You run through the rain, Spencer finally reaching his car. You move around the car and wait for him to open the doors, shivering from the freezing temperature. He unlocks the doors and you immediately open the passengers side, throwing your backpack onto the floor before lowering yourself inside.

Spencer pushes the car key into the ignition and turns it, earning a soft sound from the engine. You shift in your seat and look at him, taking your hood off which is now sticking to your forehead.

"Where are we going?" you pant, catching your breath.

"Hold on, before we go can I give you something?" He turns on his seat, his left hand on the steering wheel and the other on the headrest of your seat.

You gaze down at his hand then back at his face, paying close attention to what he's saying. But you aren't fully paying attention to his words. You're far too distracted by the scenario playing in your head. You simply nod.

With the hand that was on the headrest, he pulls your face to his and pounces his lips onto yours, his mouth turning and his nose brushing past yours as he inhales your face.

You lift your hands to his cold, wet face, laying your pointer finger by his jaw while your other fingers brush through his hair, your thumb gliding over his soft cheek.

He slides his tongue into your mouth, then lapping it over your lips as he removes himself and returns into the breathless moment. The sound of rain pattering against the window grows louder in your ears, drowning out any and all sounds that occur around you.

You blindly search for the volume button, pushing buttons until one of your favorite stations plays. You quickly slip your hand back into its position, sliding it between his hair, face, chest and neck.

Spencer pulls you closer to him, the hand on the wheel now on your face, his nose pressing against your cheek. As you find yourself moving out of your seat, he stops and let's go of your face, catching his breath before returning to the wheel.

"That was it?" you ask, unsatisfied where he's left off. You turn down the music until it's hardly audible, only the sound of the beat heard in the car.

He places the gear shift into reverse and pulls out of the parking spot, his focus now behind him. "If you would look at my pants, maybe you would see that I'm fucking hard, Y/N. Can't have sex in a school parking lot, now can we?"

Your mouth falls open and your body stills, only your heart beating rapidly. You fear looking down at his pants, but you have to. It'll give you something to look forward to. Your eyes shift from his jawline down to his crotch, catching a glimpse of his dick straining against his black pants.

You quickly look away, turning in your seat so you know you are facing the side window. "Having sex in a car wouldn't be a way I would wanna lose it anyways. Cold and everything, the smell of rain water."

He laughs, breaking shortly and pushing the gear shift into drive. He pulls out of the parking spot and slowly drives out of the lot. He remains silent for a moment, one that can kill if it wants to. "That's why I stopped, hon. I don't want to cram into a backseat and have sex with you. That would be..."

"...Mean for my first time. Also, you're acting like you aren't a virgin." He would be a virgin, at least that's what he's told you. But there's always a chance he's lied and told you he's a virgin to make you feel better. "Wait... are you?"

He clicks his tongue, letting out a long breath. He comes to a stop at the stops sign, turning to you. "I am. I just know a lot. There are books out there, y'know. That you can read. And there's the internet, too."

"What, do you watch pornos?"

He turns right and begins on the long road. "No, you can read how to make the moment more pleasurable."

"I don't judge," you tease.

"I don't see that stuff because I don't know, don't like them. I just envision," he says bluntly.

Your body heats up and your stomach twists and turns. He envisions. Envisioning meaning thinking about the person he'd have sex with... meaning actually doing it, only in his head.

"I'd like to ask who, but I think I'd hurt myself," you muse, your sentence having a purpose that is begging to be seen.

"Shut up," he replies in a low voice.

Though his reply isn't meant to be taken seriously, you remain quiet, choosing to keep your anxiousness tucked in and your thoughts in your head. You think you might explode by the time Spencer parks the car in front of his house, but you keep yourself together.

It would've been better if he kept everything to himself, allowing the suspense to drive you mad, but this way you can also prepare yourself. It's awfully complicated to prepare yourself right now, especially since you're trembling and cannot truly concentrate.

Spencer turns off the car and grabs his bag from the backseat, picking yours off of the ground as well. You take off your seatbelt and pull open the door, stepping out slowly. Your legs wobble from nervousness, the anxiety burning through you.

You close the door and Spencer locks the car, a beeping noise evident that it's locked. The rain still pours down, so you jog up to the entrance. Spencer takes his keys and fumbles through them, finally taking out the right one and pushing it into the lock. He twists the key and pushes open the door, quickly taking it out and throwing the key ring into his pocket.

You step in and he closes the door, locking it as well. He drops the backpacks at the front of the house and begins pulling off his wet clothes, hanging them on his forearm. His back muscles flex softly, moving back and forth as he relaxes his body.

You fiddle with the cuff of your wet hoodie, pulling on it but keeping it on entirely. Although it sticks to your skin, you won't take it off just yet. You have a tank top underneath and you aren't the most loving of your arms.

You enter his room and find his bed, plopping down onto the cushion. Spencer continues undressing himself, standing in his wet boxers. You keep your eyes on him for a moment, entirely infatuated with him. How he stands and how some of his hair sticks to his forehead while other pieces stand up towards the back.

"You can take your clothes off, hon. You're all wet," he emphasizes, lapping his tongue over his lips.

You hesitate to nod, but after a moment, you do. You zip down your black jacket and slide it off of your body, pulling your arms through the sleeves then throwing the wet piece of clothing to the side. You pull your black tank top over your head and lay it alongside your jacket, leaving you in your lavender bra.

He's seen you like this before, you try to remind yourself. He's slid off your shirt and kissed all of your scars, birthmarks and stretch marks, but now you're a mess and your body struggles to keep moving. The reason may be because you've seen him so turned on by you, how only by kissing him, you've caused "a lot" to happen.

He moves to his dresser and pulls out a long shirt, one two to three sizes too big for his thin body. He wears them by the way they wrinkle in every spot, they're just hidden underneath other piles of clothing. Making them seem unused and uncared for.

He throws the shirt over his shoulder and takes out a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, ones you left at his house a while ago. They probably fit too big by the way they look, but they're bottoms nonetheless.

You unbutton your old washed jeans and slide them off your body. The usual light color now dark, appearing to be regular washed jeans. You push them to the side. You cannot bear looking like a cold, wet puppy, so you hug your body, covering your stomach until Spencer appears in front of you with the clothes.

You take them from him and lay them next to you, running your hands to the clasp of your bra and unhooking it. You hold your breasts while the straps slide off of your shoulders, exposing more and more skin. Spencer turns away momentarily, allowing you to fully take the bra off.

You remove the bra from your body and take the large shirt, pulling it over your head. You think about sliding on the pants, but leave yourself pant-less.

You clear your throat, signaling for Spencer to turn back around. He smiles softly, chuckling lightly. "No pants? It's freezing, weird girl."

You shrug, tucking your hands between your thighs. "It's not that cold. Plus, you have like thousands of sheets."

Spencer moves in slowly, still in his now semi-dry gray boxers. You glance up at him, gulping down the growing lump in your throat. Your thighs and legs shake violently but that's only the true coldness that fills every inch of the room. Even when you're wrong, you like to feel right. Admitting to things- despite usually being small- is not favored by yourself.

You scoot back onto the bed, allowing him space to sit down next to you. His hand touches your knee and it sparks the electrical wire inside of you. You flinch softly, scared of what this may lead to. But you're melting and the choice of allowing yourself to melt any further is now thrown out of the window.

He leans into you and hovers his lips over your neck, laying soft kisses along your skin. His fingers tap along your arms, awakening the butterflies that buzz in your stomach when he touches you. It's soft- his movements. Slow but delicate as if he's scared he might break you. But he could go as hard as he'd like and you'd still be rock solid.

His hands now roam your waist, going under the oversized shirt. He feels up your sides, grazing every crevice and river apart of your body. He moves higher, up your stomach and now resting on your breasts. You hold your breath, so long you might turn purple.

"You okay?" he whispers, stopping his movements.

"Mhm," you murmur.

He continues, brushing his soft fingertips along your hardened nipples, cupping your breasts with his hands then moving back down your stomach. You breathe in, your chest sinking and lifting every groove he slides over.

It's odd. Overly odd- having Spencer touch you inappropriately. Not a simple handhold or kiss on the lips. He's caressing your body, holding your breasts in his fingertips as if he's holding a collectible porcelain doll. With care.

You flick your eyes to his and pull him into a greedy kiss, wanting him now and to yourself. No ones around, here to take him from you, lurking in the hall or somewhere in the room. You're just hungry for a taste of him, a taste of peppermint and lavender and the bubblegum he chews every day in English.

He pushes you deeper into the bed, his hands gripping your waist. He slowly moves on top of you, his hands working their way down your waist to your thighs. He kneads your thighs, going over every blank piece of skin and marked skin from previous injuries.

His fingers travel around your thighs, and under your top where the waistband of your underwear lays. You suck in your stomach as his fingers tuck into your underwear, between your thighs where you now don't need to imagine him there for him to be there.

You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in as he slowly moves around your clit, feeling off and new. You've done this to yourself before, you've worked your own fingers into yourself but now it's different. Obviously. It's his fingers. Larger hands, slender fingers. Not yours.

He fits between you like a puzzle. His fingers match you, but it still feels wrong. Wrong. You feel unprepared. So much practice but it feels... not the right time.

"No, Spencer, wait, " you breathe, your body unable to move for a second.

He pulls his hand out of your underwear and stares horridly into your eyes, his breathing picking up. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong? I-I didn't mean to."

"No," you whisper clearly. "I want to keep going but I just can't. I don't think I'm ready."

He backs up, close by but far enough to give you the space you need. "That's okay, don't worry. I can wait."

You shake out of the fright and scoot in to Spencer, laying your head on his lap. You stare at the sliver of gray that seeps into the room. You stare at it until you feel yourself floating away. You catch yourself in time though, managing to keep your thoughts in your head.

You feel guilt. It isn't his fault, it isn't yours either. You aren't ready and that's fine. Not everyone will instantly be ready.

You just hope he waits. Waits for you until you get your shit together. He'll wait though. That's for sure.

He'll wait because he's Spencer Reid. And Spencer Reid isn't an asshole.

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉


	10. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ

warnings: mentions of marijuana, alcohol consumption, cocaine, attempted sexual assault, violence.

"Your cuts are healing up pretty nicely." 

"It's been four days," you whisper, looking away from the large projector screen. 

"Question, Miss, why are we watching A Christmas Carol? It's the fourth of November," Sunny asks loudly, enough for Mrs. Dunning's to hear over the speakers. 

"Yeah but still, you've been using that ointment, right?" Spencer continues, leaning closer in to you. 

"Yeah," you respond. 

Mrs. Dunning's pauses the video and looks over at Sunny, her young face turning scrunching together. You may not fully see her through the darkness, but the small lava lamp on the corner of her desks illuminates just enough. "Is there something wrong with the play, Sunny? Have you even been paying attention?" 

Students turn in their chairs, looking over at Sunny who's sitting right next to you. It's quite embarrassing having everyone look in your direction. "I'm just saying. It was just Halloween and we weren't able to see a play because The Rocky Horror Picture Show was too 'inappropriate.'" 

Mrs. Dunning's sighs. "Sunny, I wish I could have played that musical for you guys, but I wasn't allowed to by Mr. Rossi. You know that. You can watch that on your own time." 

"Well Rossi can su-" 

"Sunny, I can hear you. Now if you don't want to watch the play, you can get on your phone or do whatever you want. This won't have a quiz, I'm just playing it because it's Friday and I didn't feel like making any lesson plans," she states, returning to her computer and pressing the play button. 

You look at Sunny, staring blankly at him. He's caused a scene for something so miniscule. He shouldn't have said anything, but Sunny is Sunny and he can never keep his mouth shut for more than ten minutes at a time. 

"I wanted to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show," he murmurs, his eyes wide as if he's asking: "what did I do?" 

You shake your head and avert your attention back to the screen, watching as the lights flicker different colors, a "ghost" appearing on the screen. You've seen this play multiple times, Penelope forcing you to almost four times each year. It's almost always the same one, but sometimes she'll play one from a different state at a different theater. 

After watching so many times, rather than loving it more and more, you've grown tired of it. You could write a paper on the play and state every small detail that happens throughout. How Scrooge either has a niece or nephew- isn't always the same in each production- how Scrooge anonymously sent the Cratchits a turkey, why he did it, how he felt, how the family felt, and your opinion on the act. 

And you have- written a detailed paper. That's probably why Mrs. Dunning loves you so much. She has the papers taped next to one another in chronological order near her wall of musical posters. 

After a few minutes of watching the play, your eyes grow tired and your body does as well. You've been staring at the screen for so long to distract yourself from the cramping slowly killing you, but now you're becoming more aware of it. 

You scoot your chair over to Spencer and lean your head on his shoulder, clutching your stomach gently. Spencer leans his head on top of yours and places his hand on your thigh, rubbing over your covered skin. 

"I'll wake you up when it's time to go," he whispers in a soothing tone, running his hand up and down, squeezing on your thigh every now and then. 

You nod, humming a response. You allow your eyes to fully close, the sound around you dimming down so now you can only hear the slight yelling of the actors. Your mind's thoughts begin to slow down and your dreams begin to pick up shortly after. 

Your dreams are bright, blinding you by how bright the sun is and everything around you. Life is as normal as normal can be, though the happiness that is hidden in the crevices of real life is out in the open, attacking every breathing human. You feel good when you're dreaming, at peace. But if you had a choice to live in them forever, you aren't sure you would.

Sure, in your dreams Spencer is there, shining his infectious smile, but he's that way in real life as well. And you know that one day your life is going to be just like your dreams, so why stop before it gets that way? 

You allow your dreams to take over your sleep, shining brightly and spewing rainbows upon rainbows. You smile through them, looking around until it almost gets tiring to live through it. You wish you could switch them like tv channels. 

After what feels like a blink of an eye, Spencer wakes you and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand. You hesitate and stop in your tracks for a moment, trying to recall if you had mascara on or not. You hover your hand over your eye for a moment, but then recall jolting out of bed and doing nothing but sliding on sweats, a pair of shoes, and one of Spencer's sweaters. 

You go ahead and continue wiping your eyes, moving your head from his shoulder. You stretch out your arms as you stand up, bringing them down to the straps of your backpack when you hear your joints pop. You pull on your backpack slowly, disregarding the students that pass by and exit the door.

Spencer waits by your side, bouncing on the heels of his feet. You turn your head a bit, finding him looking at you with a worried look on his face. "Is there something wrong?" you ask softly. 

"No," he shakes his head. "You okay? You were groaning a bit in your sleep." 

"Was I?" You move towards the door, turning to wave Mrs. Dunning's goodbye. She waves back and you exit, checking the hallways for Sunny. He's fled the building to your car, most likely. 

"And you haven't eaten much. I know you usually don't but lately you've been eating more," he replies, digging his hands into his pockets. 

It's true. You haven't eaten much today despite your attempts at eating more. Your stomach has just been cramping and it's difficult to eat without instantly wanting to vomit. Your period has been rather irregular since Junior year due to your creeping eating disorder, but now that you've tried to recover, it's come back to its usual speed and it's been kicking your ass. 

It's horribly awful. As if those aren't synonyms, it's the truth. They should be paired together to describe how it feels. On a normal period, you're normal; moving around and laughing. But this time around you it's noticed your upcoming happiness. 

"I know, but it isn't necessarily my fault," you retort, sighing as another cramp comes in. "It's my period's fault." 

"Oh," he says. Used to it after the years of being so blunt. "Well that makes sense." 

Your eyebrows scrunch together, the skin between them creasing as you wonder what he means. "How?" you ask simply, not assuming anything. 

You both turn the corner, heading towards the exit. "I offered you coffee this morning and you turned it down. Then I offered you some hot chips during lunch and you turned them down too. Let's not forget that all of a sudden you took my yogurt and chocolate." 

You scoff, bumping his shoulder. "Well first of all, you aren't even supposed to have dairy. Second of all, just because it's normal for people to crave chocolate during their period doesn't mean they eat it for that reason." 

"I had dark chocolate and it has a rich supply of iron and magnesium. Magnesium received from dark chocolate reduces PMS symptoms," he states in a monotone voice. "You don't usually eat dark chocolate. Makes sense. Also, even when you're on it, you're all happy and more than normal." 

You smile, your cheeks flooding with heat over the topic of conversation. "How do you know that?" 

"I'm not a man disgusted over menstruation cycles. It's smart to educate yourself on it if you aren't someone who goes through it," he continues, stopping at the exit and pushing the door open for you. 

"Well aren't I someone lucky," you say, stepping out of the building. "You never told me that." 

"Didn't think it was a big deal. It's a decent thing for a man to do." He steps out and holds the door open for a girl behind him, letting go once she's out. 

Your smile only grows, taking over your entire face. It's subtle in a way, but your cheeks hurt from the pulling at the corners. You know being a gentleman is not a big deal, it's something every man should be. While you do have the best guy friends on the planet, it still comes as a surprise when they remind you how nice and not-asshole-like they are. 

You turn and grab Spencer's hand, entwining your fingers in his freezing cold ones. He isn't embarrassed at you doing the small act. There are so many reasons why he would be, recalling the girl who was a big thing just a week ago, but he's repeatedly told you to leave it be and not bring her up. It's as if she's Voldemort and should not even be spoken of or bad energy comes flooding in. 

That's one of the hundreds of things you have agreed with about her. She needs to be left behind despite it only being three days exactly. It's funny, but everyone is over her already. 

You walk to your car and find Sunny sitting on the hood, his earbuds stuck in his ears while On a Plain plays at full volume. You remove your hand from Spencer's and quickly dig in his pocket, taking out your keys. You click the panic button, causing the blaring sound of your car to jolt Sunny from his position. 

"Fuck you!" he shouts, snatching the earbuds out of his ears. He pauses the music, staring widely at you as you hold your stomach in laughter. "Spencer. What the hell?" 

"That wasn't me," he giggles, taking your arm and prying the keys out of your hand. He turns the panic button off, instead unlocking the car. While you both laugh hysterically, Sunny pouts his way to the backdoor, opening it and slumping inside. 

"I'm sorry," you continue to laugh, hurrying over to the passengers side. You open the door and lower yourself inside, uncomfortably sliding your backpack off of your body and onto the floor. 

"You know I could have gotten a heart attack, right? You're an asshole." 

"Awe do you want a kiss, big baby?" you whimper, peering through the rear view mirror at him. 

His saddened face melts away and his smile returns, large and bright. "You know I do," he replies, sarcasm loud and clear in his voice. "Maybe we could all give each other a little kiss, right Spencie? It's been a tough week." 

"Sun you know I'd love to kiss you, just in private," Spencer jokes, inserting the key into the ignition. 

You laugh, continuing the swarm of flirting that has entered the car. "I agree, we all need a kiss." 

"I think we all need a fucking drink," Sunny breaks, taking out his box of cigarettes from his pocket. He takes one of the stupid cancerous sticks out and places it between his lips, nearing his lighter near the end. 

"Sun, don't smoke in my car," you admonish, giving him a stink eye through the mirror. "Don't smoke at all. Well, cigarettes at least." 

"You do know when you smoke both weed and cigarettes in a car it is still gonna smell like smoke at the end of the day, right?" he asks, lighting the cigarette despite your request not to. 

You roll your eyes, giving up on trying to stop him. Sunny smokes cigarettes. He doesn't smoke them as often, but he does and it is still fucking disgusting. You don't enjoy the smell of cigarette smoke, it's more potent than weed. 

"Sunny, I don't want to spend my thirtieth birthday visiting your grave," Spencer says, reversing out of the parking spot. 

"Shut up, Reid. I'm not going anywhere." 

"Well then cut that shit out," Spencer replies, looking forward as he drives out of the lot. 

"Cut that shit out," Sunny mimics. "That's your favorite thing to say, isn't it pretty boy?"

"Okay, boys, you can all calm down. How were you guys' days?" You attempt to soothe the heat, asking a question that will get both talking. 

Sunny lowers his window and lets out a stream of smoke, shrugging. "My mom is eight months pregnant." 

Your eyes grow wide and you look back at him, taken by surprise at what he's said. He never told anyone that his mom was pregnant. "When the hell did she get pregnant?" 

"Eight months ago," he plainly states, inhaling on the cigarette. 

"No shit, but why didn't you say anything?" you hiss, finding absolutely no reason as to why he would want to hide it. It's his moms pregnancy, you don't necessarily find it painful to say such a thing. Unless he's embarrassed at his mom for getting pregnant when he's already a senior in high school. 

"She really is...pregnant?" Spencer questions. "I thought I would get to her before your dad did." 

"Step dad," Sunny mumbles. "And disgusting, Reid, I would never let you be my..." 

You glare at Spencer, your eyes floating to his clenched jaw and swiping tongue. "Joking," he says after a silence. 

"Mhm. Anyways, Sunny, are you embarrassed or something? I mean your mom is still fairly young, you shouldn't be... if you are." 

He shrugs again, seeming untouched by what you're both saying. "I mean yeah. Lady is having a baby at thirty-five. When I'm thirty-five she'll be eighteen. That's kinda embarrassing if you ask me."

"So it's a she?" you inquire, smiling back at the distressed Sunny. 

"Yeah. Another sister I have to watch over," he murmurs, exhaling on the cigarette. 

Spencer turns on the street, inching closer to your house. It sucks being so close to the school, but it means you can be late whenever you want. "Well you're a great brother, Sunny. I wouldn't stress too much if I were you." 

Spencer continues on the road for the next five minutes until he pulls into your house, parking your car. He turns the car off and pulls the keys out, sliding the ring onto his middle finger. You take off your seatbelt and grab your backpack, opting on holding it in your hand. 

Sunny steps out of the car, smashing his stupid cancer stick on the floor. He smushes it with his foot, then closes the door and follows behind you and Spencer. 

Penelope's bug car is parked in the front, meaning she's home. You turn the doorknob and file inside, throwing your backpack onto the floor near the closet. You smell cookies, sugar cookies to be exact. She bakes almost every day, it's an addiction. 

You throw your shoes off and head to the kitchen, spotting Penelope sitting at the table with Derek and Emily. You flick your eyes at the trio, forcing a smile onto your face to ease the awkward tension. "Hi," you murmur. 

"There's a party tonight, Emily's college friends are throwing it," she says straightforwardly. 

"O-kay, would you like us to come or something?" You move to the refrigerator and grab a Kool-Aid. 

"I do, actually. It would be fun," she replies. Her eyes feel as if they are burning into you, staring at each movement you make. 

"I'm in," Sunny exclaims, allowing no time for you to think. "I think you two should come. Get fucked up, it would be fun." 

You tear away the straw and poke it into the pouch, instantly bringing it to your mouth. You take a sip of the freezing liquid, watching everyone look at you as if you have an important decision to make. "Fine, I'll go. When does it start?" 

"Late. It's a frat party," Emily chimes in. 

"A frat party? Fucking hell," you mumble, the picture of a frat party playing in your mind already. 

"You still up for it, pretty girl?" Derek asks, a smirk playing on his lips. 

You swallow the rest of the Kool-Aid and discard the pouch in the trash. You know frat parties don't always turn out the way most want them to be. They're a shit show, to be quite honest. You're sure you'll get high and maybe a bit tipsy if life heads that way, but once you're out of your mind at a frat party, you have to be insanely careful. 

But it's a party, nonetheless. "Yeah, sure." 

They all nod and you put on a smile, one that queues' your exit. You quickly open the pantry and grab a small bag of pretzels and exit the kitchen, both Spencer and Sunny following behind you as you run up to your room. Frat parties start late- the literal definition of late- therefore getting ready right now is far too early. 

You swing open the door to your room and throw yourself onto your bed, groaning into the white satin pillow. Spencer flops down beside you and Sunny crashes onto the makeshift bed next to your bed. 

You turn over and lay your head on the pillow, staring up at the poster covered ceiling. Spencer cuddles up next to you, hugging your body while his head lays on your stomach. You run your hands through his hair, scratching his head after a couple of pass throughs. 

Suddenly the tv turns on and Sunny presses on a movie, the sound of instant screaming and crying filling your small room. You wish he'd chosen a different movie, a less gore filled one with laughter and joy. One you could fall asleep to. 

Despite hating the sound of screaming while you attempt to take a nap, you fall asleep anyways. Your hands scratch at Spencer's head, his arms wrapped around you while he hums against your tummy. He's delicate with you and it's sweet. It makes your heart swell and your stomach swarm with butterflies. 

It's a joy sleeping alongside Spencer, no matter how long you've done so. It feels better that it isn't simply platonic. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You look fucking hot in this outfit, you whisper to yourself in the mirror. 

You decided to dress in a hot outfit, one that will have guys staring but intimidating enough for no one to lay a finger on you. This outfit consists of a cherry colored top with ripped black mom jeans and a pair of old, but fairly white vans. It makes you appear hot from the top, then a bit... questionable at the bottom but it works. 

No one will stare at your feet for the entire time so why care so much. 

And your outfit wouldn't be complete without your makeup. You didn't do a lot, but it was much more than normal.

You understand that inside frat houses are hot and smelly and you'll be sure to sweat, but after being hit with a period that is giving you cramps of what you think will be the closest to pregnancy contractions, you want to feel pretty and not ugly and bloated like a balloon. 

You did your regular makeup, foundation, concealer, eyebrows, everything, but you added a red lip and drew on eyeliner with red eyeshadow instead of the black liner. It looks amazing, but you wonder if anyone else thinks the same. 

You sigh, taking one last look at yourself before exiting the bathroom, turning off the lights and shutting the door. You walk downstairs into the living room, where Spencer has now blacked out once again. It's 11:00 P.M. and the poor boy has had a long day. 

You were the last one to get ready, which is understanding, so you don't blame him for falling asleep at the time. You plop down next to him and rub his back, waking him gently from his sleep. He opens his eyes, blinking violently to shake away the strands of hair poking his eyeballs. 

You guide his hair out of his face and smile softly, running your thumb over his cheek. "And you wake," you whisper, making him laugh. 

"You look beautiful, I like the red eyeliner," he replies, taking in a deep breath as he stretches his body. 

You admire his face; his jaw tightening and his tongue lapping his lips while his gaze is stuck on you, almost like he's hungry just staring at you. You nod. "Thank you. I like the whole band shirt thing you have going on. With the boyband hair in your eyes and stuff." 

He laughs, peeking his white teeth to you under the dim lights. "You like it?" he acts in surprise. 

You do so as well, wondering why the hell you wouldn't enjoy it. "Why would I not?" 

"Alrighty!" Penelope exclaims, clapping her hands together. She walks down the stairs and into the living room, her sparkly silver dress paired with shining neon shoes and a bright matching bow and pair of glasses to match. "Time to go go go." 

You grab Spencer's hand and lift him up, dragging him to the front door where everyone is piled up. Penelope opens the door and you along with everyone else floods out, each finding their own car. Your car is big enough to hold Spencer and Sunny and Penelope's is big enough to hold Derek and Emily. 

You know Spencer cannot drive and you do not plan on driving either, therefore Sunny is left to drive the car. 

"Spence, the keys?" You turn to Spencer, stopping in your tracks to wait for him to hand you the keys. He digs in his pockets and grabs the ring of keys, throwing them to you as you then throw them to Sunny who's ahead of you. 

He fishes for the correct key then unlocks the car, opening the doors and lowering himself inside. You waltz around the car and open the passenger side door, sitting down in your seat and pulling on your seatbelt right away. 

Spencer follows inside and bends down, pulling out a small black bag. He places it on the center console and looks at you through the rear-view mirror. "What?" you ask, looking at him with curiousness. 

"Let's smoke." 

Your eyes widen and you take a long look at him, making sure you're seeing him and hearing him clearly. Spencer has bought weed before, but he's never truly been loving of it. He says it isn't for him, but buys some every now and then. And he can roll pretty nicely, too, for someone who rarely smokes. 

"Who is this I am talking to right now?" you wonder, laughing. 

Sunny starts the car and drives onto the road, remaining silent as Spencer pulls out his ashtray and the already rolled joint. "It's sativa," he informs, grabbing the lighter from his pocket. 

"You've been tired, huh bub?" 

He nods, lighting the joint as it's in-between his fingers. Wordless. He slips the joint into his mouth and inhales, holding the smoke in his mouth for a second, then exhaling. You know you shouldn't think of him as the most attractive man to set foot on the planet while he smokes, but that's what you think right now. 

He exhales and a stream of smoke parts his lips, filling the air. You can barely see him, but he's inhaled once more, the sucking of his teeth becoming closer to you as you think. You've been turned to look at him, watching him blow the smoke into your face. 

You close your eyes, avoiding the smoke from absolutely tearing your eyeballs to shreds. You open them and Spencer laughs, his bottom lip teething between his teeth. He takes another hit of the joint and passes it to you, allowing you to smoke if you'd like. 

You take it from him and inhale, holding the smoke in, exhaling soon after. You keep your eyes on him for a minute, then turn to look out of the window, rolling down the window the slightest so you don't intoxicate yourself more than wanted. 

The smoking continues until the joint becomes too small to inhale from. You throw it out of the window and Spencer begins accumulating his items, placing them back into his black pouch. He bends down and pushes it back under your seat, laughing softly when he almost slips out of his seat. 

Sunny rejected the offer, saying he "wanted to get drunk instead of high," which confused you because being high was much better than being drunk, in your opinion. 

You were much more "live" after smoking, giving you the motivation to do any and everything. You're sure you'll want to drink, although drinking while on your period is not advised. Therefore you might keep it at a minimum and drink responsibly. 

After a couple of minutes of constant laughter between you and Spencer, you reach the house. There's people outside, inside, on patios of bedrooms. Sunny parks and turns off the car, taking the keys out and placing them in his jean pocket. 

You take off your seatbelt and open the door, quickly met with the unbalance of the earth. Sunny runs around and grabs your hand, his grip tight around your palm. "Sorry," you laugh, spitting a small amount. 

You don't know where Spencer got what he got, but it was way better than what you've gotten. Spencer crawls out of his seat and slams the door shut, his balance kept, well, balanced, walking perfectly fine with no need of assistance. 

His fine way of walking has sparked a thought in your head: has he smoked more? This year has already been different for him, so he might have smoked more than he ever has. Maybe he's done it on his own. Which would make sense because Sunny can be very stingy at times. 

You all walk into the house, Sunny parting into his own way, leaving you and Spencer high together. You turn to Spencer, watching his eyes bulge out of his sockets as they're met with a large cooler filled with drinks. 

He grabs your hand and pulls you to it, grabbing a cold beer. You aren't fond of beer, but from what Spencer is showing, he is. He pulls out a bottle cap opener and pops off the cap, handing it to you. He takes the other and pops the cap off as well, clinking it against your bottle before bringing it to his lips and taking in a long gulp. 

You take a small sip, groaning at the taste. It isn't good, so you place it on a small table next to a passed out girl whose shirt straps are falling off, showing her bright red bra. You bend down and grab a pillow, placing it over her top instead of fixing her shirt. You wouldn't want to wake her nor make her feel uncomfortable. 

You look up and Spencer has gone off, somewhere you don't know. You're left alone, having nowhere else to go but next to the passed out girl. You slump down next to her, sitting with your leg crossed over the other. 

The room vibrates with music; all kinds of it. Late 80's music plays, Britney Spears plays which makes you giggle because it's a fraternity party with dozens of toxic masculine men. Country music plays, too, which makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, loud groans of displeasure flying past your mouth. 

You stand up- wobbling from unbalance- and decide to look around, discover where the smell of weed and mixture of alcohol is coming from. The last of the country music shakes the house and every country student laughs and shouts through the new song. 

Some form of neo-psychedelia song comes on, making you feel more alive, floating almost. The beat shakes your body and you find your head bobbing from side to side, your fingers pressing down on your thigh during each beat. 

"When I zone, I'm feeling alright." 

You move around the pile of people, stumbling onto a long white table, guys and girls gathered around, pouring shots into small red cups. 

"I forget about it all." 

They pour tequila into the plastic shot cups, pushing them to the surrounding people. You weave your way through the group of people, grabbing the first cup the tall, tattooed man sends your direction. You take it and instantly down it, your entire face scrunching at the strong liquid that burns down your throat. 

"I keep myself so lifted, I'm accustomed to new heights." 

It's weirdly pleasant, though. You place the cup right in front of the guy, laughing when he leans back from the closeness you've placed it. "Sorry," you giggle. 

He laughs as well, shaking his head as he takes the red cup. He pours you another shot and hands it back to you, brushing his warm, heavy fingers against yours. You flinch at the feeling, hating an unfamiliar man's touch. You don't reach out to different people and standing in this unfamiliar setting- no matter how many parties you've attended- makes you uneasy. 

You snatch the cup and down the liquid, your throat burning intensely. A cough hits you and you laugh through it, covering your mouth with your hand as you find yourself dying. You look around, feeling paranoid due to the eyes now on you. 

Particularly the tall man that handed you the drink. 

He's tall, broad shoulders and murderous green eyes. His body is marked in black ink, the once green and red ink mixing together to create one color. There are roman numerals that extend from his forearm to his wrist, large and ugly, surrounded with horribly drawn drawings that were probably put on his body by members of his fraternity. 

His hair is messy, brown and curly, clearly missing more than a few visits to the barber shop. The curly strands cover his forehead, turning him into more of a mess. His black shirt has tears, showing small spots of tattoos that take over his body. 

He is nowhere near attractive, but his build and large, veiny hands and arms make girls fall for him. And maybe the toxicity he laces with fake kindness as well. It's out in the open, but you know everyone who falls for him is blind and stupid enough not to tell. 

"Pretty girl, what are you doing here all alone?" he now speaks. 

You look around the room truly trying to spot Penelope, Emily, Spencer, someone. But through the ants of people that fill every part of the room, you cannot find anyone. You turn back to the man, shrugging. 

"Does she speak?" he teases, leaning closer over the table. His friends laugh and the girls awing over him look at you with anger in their eyes. 

"And the Devil in a hot pink dress tryin' to ask me for one dance." 

You narrow your eyes, scrunching your top lip in slight disgust at such attitude. "I do." Just because you're high doesn't mean you don't know what the hell he's saying. It's plain disrespectful and he's only spoken a maximum of twelve words.

He notices the tone of voice and backs up, throwing his hands up. "Firecracker, huh?" 

You roll your eyes. You extend your hand and place the cup in front of his face. "More, please." Attitude because you're fired up and will not handle any more of him. 

He throws more tequila into your cup and you swallow it down, the burn now at a minimum. 

"I'm feeling alright, I forget about it all." 

The impact of vibration comes to a halt for a moment then resumes onto another song. "You want another one or are you alright?" 

"Shut up," you spit groggily. You can already feel the mixing of weed and alcohol and it has intensified your high. You knew it wasn't a good thought that passed your mind in the car, but now that you've done it, it's simply even more of a regretful act. 

You smash the small red cup on the table and stumble out of the group of assholes, finding your way around the tremendous amounts of high and drunk college students, young high schoolers from what you see too. 

You push through the people, stumbling over bent down people who are forming lines of cocaine of tabletops. Your mouth is dry despite drinking and your throat feels as if it's on fire. You have no clue why, but you can feel more now. 

You find a flight of stairs and walk up into a long hallway, room doors open and closed. You tumble over cups and people hanging out on the stairwell, knocking on each door until no one yells from inside. 

You open the door, finding yourself in a room covered in boy-ish things. A queen sized bed with blue plaid bed sheets, white pillows with an alarm on the bedside table. A large tv is set in-front of the bed, on top of a black counter, picture frames along the perimeter. 

You shouldn't be in here, but if you're a part of a fraternity where a party is being hosted, you should expect at least someone to disturb your space. 

You lay down on the bed, staring up at his white blank ceiling. You hum to the same music, same artist too. 

"Two AM, summer night, I don't care." 

You hum to the music, knowing and hearing it from elsewhere. 

Suddenly, after singing lowly to yourself, the door opens and you turn your head, spotting the same asshole you already began despising.

"Hey," he whispers kindly. 

"I'm fine, kinda nauseous actually, so get out before I throw up on you." The sentence makes you giggle, sounding rude yet somewhat bad ass. Not really, after processing for 0.005 seconds. 

He laughs, creeping in slowly. He doesn't close the door, leaving it centimeters open. 

"Just checking up on you," he continues, sitting on the edge of the bed, scooting in after every second. 

You sit up but he grabs your thigh, gripping it until you're sure it leaves a mark. "Fuck," you exclaim, coming out as a whisper under the bass of the music. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You kick and kick but he grabs your other thigh, standing up while keeping his grip tight. 

He laughs evilly, his large lips now spread out and more thin. "You're feisty."

You don't want anything to happen, but under his grip you aren't going anywhere. Your eyes flick to the door. Feet pass by but no one to your rescue. You form the most spit you can in your mouth and spit in his face, earning a "bitch" from him. 

He lets go of your thigh and instead grabs your neck, throwing it on the bed. You kick more, stronger this time. Nope. 

His fingers crawl up your skin, pricking your skin. You're livid, but you can't do anything. His hands run down your body, on your exposed stomach, grooves of your skin where Spencer's hands once were. You try not to let the fear take over you, but it's near impossible from the heavy touch of his fingertips. 

You look to all corners of the room, your heart pulsating through your chest. "I shouldn't have come," you cry, tears pricking at your eyes. "I shouldn't have come here." 

"Shh," he goes on, laying a kiss on your neck, kissing over the hickeys left by Spencer. "Someone's left their little mark on you already, huh?" 

You're intoxicated but you feel more sober than ever. His fingerprints on your skin, the burning trail he leaves behind and every musty breath of alcohol he breathes onto you. "Mhm," you manage to get out. 

"Y/N," a voice yells through the packed hallways. Sunny. 

"Sunny!" you scream at the top of your lungs. The man covers your mouth, turning your screams into murmurs that are hardly audible. You bite at his hand, kicking and screaming and spitting until he moves his hand, slapping your face. 

"Y/N!" 

"SUNNY," you continue, sobbing now. 

"Y/N!" This time it's Spencer's voice. 

The man quickly unbuttons your pants and you kick once more, right at his groin. He stumbles back but comes back, gripping your throat as he attempts to slip his hands down your jeans. "I'm on my period," you sob. 

"And that's stopped anyone how?" 

The door opens and Sunny and Spencer run in, Sunny instantly pulling the guy off of you. Sunny slams punches into the guy's face, allowing himself to be fought until bloody. After a couple of punches, Spencer pushes Sunny away and begins attacking the guy's face, punch after punch. Violent. 

You've never seen Spencer so angry. You never even knew he could punch someone with such force to draw blood from almost every blank space on his face. And it may be the drugs he's on paired with whatever he's drunk, turning into a violent storm of fist upon face. 

You're still, frozen in place, your pants unbuttoned, the heat of your body turning you into a sweaty mess. It's an awful feeling. You're glad nothing else happened, but he touched you. It doesn't matter if he didn't do anything, he still did something. 

Sunny falls next to your side and he throws his arms around you, tucking your head into the crevice of his damp neck. You sob, release everything you can. And he allows you to.

You know this is traumatic and it will delay some form of development in your brain. It's painful to know that as well. Know that you'll be scarred some way or another. It sparks anger inside of you as well. 

Why the hell would someone tell you senior year of high school would be the best thing ever when this is what has happened the third month in?

It's pure bullshit.

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉

a/n: i was boiling mad writing towards the end because just writing about disgusting people like that makes me mad. if this has happened to you recently or EVER, i am here for you to talk to if you ever feel like speaking to someone. i will also attach a national sexual assault hotline number as well. i love you all, so so so so so much. 

800.656.HOPE (4676) to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area. 

-Keyly


	11. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ

Warnings: mentions of attempted sexual assault. 

When one shitty thing dissipates from your life, another flies in and takes over. Its awful. 

That's what happened when the shitty man at the party tried assaulting you for whatever reason flooded his mind. You kicked and cried and shouted but he pushed you down. It all happened fast and in a blur and maybe that's why you feel so unaffected. 

You cried when it happened, sobbed into the arms of Sunny, asking, "Why? Was it me? Was it how I was dressed?" But the day after you sat it in bed, your mind a blank slate, having minimum recollection of what happened the night before. 

You soon realized what happened and you were able to understand what happened to you, but you shrugged it off. It was far from normal, but that's how you felt. You felt as if you could move on and forget about it. 

You know what everyone deals with this sort of occurrence differently, but you want to understand why you're acting like this rather than begging someone to throw him into jail. Maybe it'll bite you in the ass soon, crumble you down and turn you into the walking definition of guilt, or maybe it won't. You have no way of directing your mind into the correct path of recovery. You just hope you aren't left somewhere stranded for good. 

For the past weekend, you've stayed with Spencer, cuddled up with him in his bed while you sit in a comfortable silence. He leaves every hour to check on Diana and then he comes back, resuming where you left off. 

It's warm in his bed and it's always quiet, no yelling and throwing of objects, nothing cruel and suffocating. You aren't Spencer so you don't know if that's how he feels in his home, but you feel much better when you're there with him. It's breathable. 

During the silence that happens over hours and hours, you've noticed how he is locked in your head as safety. Whenever you're uncomfortable and feel for a need to escape, you run to Spencer. You stay with him until you think he's grown tired, and the cycle repeats over and over again. 

He seems unbothered, thankfully. You would stay forever if you wanted, but you can't. Leaving Penelope on her own pains you to envision. She isn't one for isolation. 

She's messaged you over fifty times while you've been here, too. Asking how you've been, if you're okay, if you're sad, all the same question, just in different forms. You're thankful though, she's one of the best humans to set foot on planet earth and her load of questions makes you smile no matter what. 

You keep checking them. Checking your phone in general. 

ꜰʀᴏᴍ: ꜱᴜɴɴʏ  
ʜᴇʏ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ɢɪʀʟ, ʜᴏᴡ'ᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴇɴ? ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ?

ꜰʀᴏᴍ: ᴘᴇɴɴʏ  
ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʙᴜɴɴʏ.

ꜰʀᴏᴍ: ᴍᴏᴍ  
ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ, ᴘᴇɴᴇʟᴏᴘᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴀ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ. ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ. ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ.

That's your mom. But you've managed to block her out so her messages don't hurt. They sting, but stabbing your heart as if it was a knife is not the pain; it's numbness. Your mom is like a poorly created indie film: confusing, no plot given, and nothing happens except minor changes throughout. 

You set your phone down next to you and look out of Spencer's bedroom window, peering at the large bright moon. You can almost see the craters by how large it is. 

Despite laying in bed all day and staying mute unless something is really necessary to say, nighttime has been the time where you can finally be at peace. It's quieter than usual and the only sound that takes over is the sound of crickets and katydids bouncing around. 

You sigh, tapping your fingers against the grooves on your knees. You hum quietly, making up a song in your mind to dim the isolation. Spencer is laying in bed sleeping and his low snoring might soothe you, but you opt on humming instead. 

After a moment, your phone beeps and you look down at your phone, flipping it over to see who it is. It's 2:00 A.M. and everyone you know is asleep at this time. Everyone but Sunny. 

He texts and you leave your phone be, deciding to leave it until you wake up. You probably won't sleep, but you'll leave it until "tomorrow." 

It beeps again, then the vibration shakes the makeshift bed on the floor that you made. You let it vibrate for a moment, allowing yourself to seem asleep and bothered when you answer. 

By the third beep, you click the green answer button and bring the phone to your ear, forcing a yawn from the back of your throat. 

"Hello?" you ask. 

He sighs. "Hey, pretty girl." 

"It's two in the morning, Sun," you whisper, looking over your shoulder at the sleeping Spencer. 

He laughs and you imagine the words that are yet to come out of his mouth. "Then shouldn't you be asleep?" 

You shrug your shoulders, acting as if he's in front of you holding the conversation. "Maybe. Just haven't been able to sleep is all. Something's wrong with my circadian rhythm." 

"Ah, circadian rhythm. That psychology class in sophomore year really did a number on you huh?" 

"Not just the class, I've been obsessed with psychology since I was a kid," you state. Your eyebrows scrunch and you bite your lip, wondering where the growing conversation is heading. "What does that have to do with what we're talking about?" 

"It doesn't, just trying to start conversation. You haven't answered texts and I get that, I completely understand, I just want to talk," he says in a low tone, making sure to emphasize his words. 

You nod slowly, your chest tightening at the recollection of two nights ago. You don't care, it's only when you have to go through every single thing that lead to the moment. 

"I don't want to talk about that, something else. Anything but that," he clarifies. 

"Then what?" 

"Spencer?" 

Your lips pull into a half smile. "What about him?" 

"What do you like about him?" Sunny asking questions about Spencer makes you... uncomfortable in a way. Not because Sunny himself makes you uncomfortable- because he doesn't- but because it's about his best friend too. Not just yours. 

You enjoy talking about Spencer. Everything about him makes your heart jump and your tummy fill with all sorts of flying insects. Your cheeks turn an odd shade of color and you become more giddy than you usually are. He has that effect on you. 

"Umm, I don't know." Sudden goosebumps yet heat coursing through your body. "It's a bit weird talking to you about him Sunny." 

"I don't care. You get all crazy when you talk about him. You've done it before, you just haven't realized." His tone is soft, sympathetic. Sunny has his different sides of character he chooses everyday. Today he's chosen... sweet, apple pie kind of sweet. 

You inhale deeply, then exhale with a sputtering of words and details you've caught from Spencer. "He does this little thing with his nose, like a little scrunch whenever he's deeply concentrated or overly anxious about something. And he's just told me about why he's so touchy; it's because he gets nervous and likes to go over all the lines on your palms and count them so by the time he's done, his mind is taken off of what he was so worried about." 

Your smile grows wider and your cheeks become sore by the time Sunny offers a response. "What else about that genius do you like?" You can hear the slight disapproval in his voice. 

You click your tongue, sounding like a clock as you gather more words to sputter out. "Well, he's reserved this small area in his closet for all of my clothes that I've left in his room. And he has this bin in there filled with socks, all unmatched because he paired them with different pairs. He says he does it so when I come over, I don't really have to leave." 

Sunny laughs softly over the line, sounding happy-like. "Definition of lover boy I see." 

"It's cute though," you whisper, smiling unconditionally. You stare up at the sky again, counting the stars, naming two of them after yourself and Spencer. It makes you question yourself due to how corny it is, but it makes you feel at ease somehow. 

"So what have you guys done? Hugged like preschoolers? Talked about relationship things?" 

"We cuddled... I didn't speak all that much. I feel fine but I just don't want to talk," you state, raking your fingernails down your thigh. 

"You feel fine?" he asks in disbelief. Sunny doesn't think you're telling the truth, you can tell without him even saying it. He can talk and talk in a stone still voice and you will still catch onto the skepticism in a flash. 

"Yeah, seriously. I don't know, it feels weird not being so affected by it. It's more the people that keep bothering me about it that are making me feel weird," you state annoyingly. 

He sighs once more, the sound of a tapping pen ringing through the call. "It's normal. I learned it in psychology too." 

You scoff, shaking your head at the sentence. "I know." 

"Don't tell me you're gonna go back to being quiet, weird girl, I want to hear your voice," he whines, obviously sarcastic. 

"I'll try not to. It's you guys I'll be around though so I think I'll be okay," you respond. 

"Okay then, I love you and I'll let you go off to bed," Sunny breathes. 

"I love you too, Goodnight." 

"Goodnight." 

The line ends and you slowly remove the phone from your ear, placing it down next to you where it was before. You hear ruffling behind you, bedsheets and the cracking of joints. You fear you've woken Spencer up, but he falls asleep quite fast so it's no big deal. 

You turn and Spencer groggily stands up, scuffling towards you. He sits beside you on the white fluffy bedsheets and follows your eyes to the sky. "The moon is big," he says so suddenly. 

"Mhm," you murmur. You lay your chin on your knee and entwine your fingers under them, rocking your hands back and forth. 

"What're you doing up so late?" he asks, scooting closer next to you. 

You shrug. "It's peaceful." So many words linger in your mind but there's only so much you can say right now. It's foggy up there when people come in and begin talking to you. You can already sense your social battery running out and you're only speaking to one person. 

"It is." He follows the bland conversation, understanding why you're so quiet and keeping it that way. 

Spencer understanding you and choosing not to budge makes you happy, elated in some odd way you choose not to dive into. It's all because he understands the monsters that can creep inside of your brain when something traumatizing happens. 

Shit, his dad left him and his mom is a schizophrenic. He's had his fair share of trauma and he's only turned eighteen. 

You look up to Spencer at times. You wonder how he's kept himself steady after all that's happened to the poor boy. You've had a tough life, you just haven't been the best at hiding it. It's suggested to let it out, because you're a girl, but Spencer is a guy and he's repeatedly been told to push his feelings aside. 

Even after you've told him countless amounts of times that he can shed tears and do what the hell he wants that is referred to as feminine and he will still be a man, but he hasn't paid attention. He's scared, that's why. He doesn't hate the idea, he's only scared of judgement. 

"Spencer," you murmur, turning to him. He turns, nodding for you to continue. "Did I wake you? And did you... hear the conversation?" 

His cheekbones become more defined, his lips pulling up at the corners. "I did, you get a little loud when you talk about things that interest you." 

"Oh." Oh, the infamous word you've spoken thousands and thousands of times. "I'm sorry." 

His eyebrows scrunch together and he runs his hand to your knee, running along your bare skin. You're dressed in one of his long shirts and a pair of black boxers, also his. His fingers reach down to the end of the boxers then back to your knee. 

He's careful, delicate in case you're hurt somehow. "It's okay. I found some things out about myself that I didn't know, so thank you." 

You wrap your hands around your face, shaking away the blushing heat that forms on your cheeks and runs down your neck. "Oh no. That was meant for— it wasn't meant for you to hear." 

He chuckles softly. "I figured. But it was nice to hear that, y'know. You know how to make people feel good about themselves." 

"Do I?" you query for reassurance. 

"Mhm," he mumbles in return. "If I had that power I would overuse it until it was taken away from me." 

You uncover your face and lean your head on his shoulder, instead wrapping your hands around his arm. He leans his head on top of yours as usual and let's out a breath of relief. 

"I wish I could plunge all of that pain out of you," he whispers. "Transfer it into myself. You know, like spongebob does with his tears." 

You giggle. "If that was possible I would let you." 

A silence takes over and you both stare up at the sky, counting the stars one by one and the visible craters on the moon until you cannot see any longer. It's so far but looks as if you can stick your hand out and touch it. It's so beautiful and different, lovely in the best of words. 

"I think if I lost you, I would just wither away. Be limp," Spencer says at the end of silence. 

"Why?" you ask curiously. 

He breathes. "Because you take up most of my body. Every little spot in my mind, you occupy it and every spot in my heart, you do the same thing." 

Your heart beats, the sound booming in your ears. You'd like you stay alongside him until the watt parts, tells you it's time to go. 

People will tell you that it's high school and almost all of your friends will fall off the side of the earth and never be heard of, but you don't want to believe it. 

If Spencer leaves your side, you're sure you'll wither away yourself. Because he's your other half. And if he's gone, you're gone.

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉


	12. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ

warning: yelling, slight violence, mentions of sexual assault, emotional abuse. 

Day whatever of being back home. Penelope has baked and baked until her hands couldn't do it anymore and she drew small, cute faces on each one with frosting. You didn't eat much due to how overly sweet they were, but it was a nice gesture.

You haven't gone to school and your mother hasn't been home since that Friday night, but she must have gotten the message. If she hasn't, then your father has but he's only messaged you.

"ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ $200, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴀᴡᴀʏ," was what he messaged you, followed with $200 sent to your bank account.

He's officially away and isn't coming back unless necessary. You miss him, he's the one out of your parents that is truly thoughtful and not malice like your mother. But he was driven away by your mother and how she contrasted his character. One of the many things she's driven away.

You'd like to visit him, ask where he's located and spend time with him. He enjoys staying in Manhattan, upper east side because he has that kind of money from being a writer for spunky films and shows. He's cool, but no attention is put onto you or the rest of your family. You have no problem though, if anyone else outside of your circle saw how terrible your family was, you would crumble. It's embarrassing.

Overall, visiting your dad would be fun, seeing him live his life in New York as some writer. You're a good writer, just not good enough to write hundreds of words like he does. However you admire him for it, for the dedicated time.

But those wishes to meet him will end soon because if you ask your mom to see him, she will freak out and throw a tantrum as if she's a little girl. Crazy one, she is. Manipulative, maybe that's why your father left her. She comes home in a couple of minutes too.

She won't be able to say anything though because Spencer is with you and she becomes embarrassed when she yells and throws her tantrums in front of visitors. It was a smart plan inviting him.

"That show is pure porn," you state, closing your laptop. You roll over and look up at the ceiling, groaning as you stretch your limbs out.

Spencer laughs, following your motions and looking up at the Queen and Taylor Swift posters. He leans his head on the top of your shoulder and plants a soft kiss on your slightly exposed skin. He's been careful around you, in case you aren't comfortable with touch, but you've been fine with it.

"Would you like to make out?" you joke, laughing at his immediate stillness, no breathing even.

"Penelope is here," he whispers, secretive due to Penelope's bedroom being right next to yours. "Plus, it's only been a week hon."

You roll your eyes, covering your face with your hands. You understand Spencer being precautious, but you feel okay and you are in desperate need of intimacy that isn't in the form of shoulder kisses. They're amazing, they are, but his mouth is so close to your lips but he chooses not to kiss them.

"If I still have my virginity by the end of this school year I'm killing myself," you mutter, not meaning a single word, just something you thought out loud in the moment. You think Spencer doesn't hear, but you're completely wrong because when you move your hands away from your face, his face is right next to yours, eyebrows turned down.

"Don't say that," he urges, his tone laced with seriousness. He doesn't enjoy those jokes, it's obvious.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, it's just annoying," you sigh, looking over at his pouted face. "Being treated like a baby; no jokes being made around you because god knows what triggers you and what doesn't."

He blinks, listening to what you have to say. "And I'm sorry about that. I'm trying to be the most normal around you, but I'm scared to touch you or kiss you because I don't know if you're comfortable with that yet, I mean..." he pauses, gulping down the nervousness before speaking again. "You were almost... I don't want to give you awful flashbacks and panic attacks because of where I touch you."

Your heart flutters at the boundaries he's set for himself. You haven't been as open with what you're okay with and it makes your heart jump that he isn't pouncing onto you unlike you want him to. He isn't some guy who automatically thinks you're over it, even if you share no emotions towards the traumatic event.

"You're the best guy I think I've ever met," you scoff, turning away. You sit up in your bed, gazing at the questionable looking Spencer. His face is contorted into the most confused expression ever set on a human face. "What?"

"I'm the bare minimum," he puts it plainly.

Your eyebrows scrunch together and you lean back, almost defensively. "What? No you're not."

"Yes," he laughs, "I am. Just because I'm here, present and I don't go anywhere. I'm educated... and not just academically... What else? Oh I'm not a complete jackass. That's the bare minimum, ma'am." He looks into your eyes, disappointment filling every space.

You shake your head, not agreeing with a word he says. He's more than the minimum, more than what a man should be. "Don't ma'am me. I'm being serious, you're not just what every man should be."

He sits up and leans into you, his smile still loud and sarcastic. "What kind of guys have you talked to? I might need to know about them."

You roll your eyes, skimming your bottom lip with your tongue. "They've been good guys," is all you manage to say.

"But who?"

"He left school last year."

He lifts his hand and slowly nears your face, asking permission without words. You nod and he runs his fingers down your cheek, then your neck. "Name?"

You sigh, finding no real reason to tell him. "Elijah, the one with wavy brown hair, we had him in Spanish sophomore year."

He leans his head back, giving you sight of his neck and tip of his sharp chin and jaw. "Fucking Elijah? I love you but that name is from the Bible. What rule did we make— me, you and Sunny- about dating people who's names are from the Bible?"

You laugh, your mouth hanging open in surprise at the judgement. "Spencer Reid it is just a name, you're kidding me."

He soothes your neck with the tips of his fingers, his head shaking as he continues. "Hon, was he a complete ass?"

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue, swallowing down the lie that you want to say instead of the truth. Elijah was a complete ass; he was one to use girls for their smarts or bodies, never anything more.

"Maybe," you sputter, earning a loud groan from Spencer. "Come on you're judging someone off of their name."

He nods eagerly, lowering his head to your lips. He hovers over your mouth, whispering: "is this okay?" You murmur a yes and he plants a chaste kiss to your lips. "Maybe because they really do suck. It's always the ones that are named after godly names that are the most jackasses," he continues in a whisper.

"Definitely." He gives you another kiss, soft and sweet like candy. He then parts, his hand remaining on the base of your neck for a moment.

"Mom, wait, just leave her alone please." Penelope's voice drifts throughout the house, through the vents, everywhere.

Your mom is home, obviously, and she's angry. She's always angry when she comes home; filled with rage and some desire to bash your head against a wall. Some would think you're her favorite child by the way she yells your name and cries in your presence, the first person on her mind—people would think. You are the person on her mind wherever she goes, you know it, but not in the way most would ask for.

She wants to destroy every inch of happiness that grows in your body, unlike you. While she wishes death upon you (wouldn't be a surprise) you wish her a bad future, but never death. That's what scumbags do that have no warmth in their body. Pure coldness.

"Penelope, let me talk to my daughter whenever the hell I want to talk to her," your mother retorts, pushing Penelope away from what you imagine.

"Spencer is with her, please don't cause a scene," Penelope says through clenched teeth, loud enough for you and Spencer to hear.

You turn to Spencer, gulping down the lump in your throat. You're uneasy, scared for what she might say. Spencer grips your hand dramatically, but you pull away, standing up and nearing the door.

You touch the cold golden knob, turning it slowly and quietly so the evil witch won't hear you.

"Penelope, let me see her."

"No!" she cries, grunting and the sound of struggle burning your ears. Suddenly the sound of a slap shakes the house and you hurry down the stairs, spotting Penelope hold her cheek, her surrounding skin bright red. Her blush won't even conceal the redness.

"Mom," you exclaim, rushing to Penelope. You grab her arm, rubbing your thumb gently over her skin. "Why would you do that?"

She stares into your eyes, her dark red irises thick and dangerous. She glares, stepping up to try to come off as intimidating. She succeeds, scaring you into removing your hand from Penelope.

You tell yourself that the lady is nothing but a scared woman herself, scared of her own acts and thoughts that take place in her dark mind. She's like a villain with no good morals, no absolute reason for being an asshole, she's just taken the role as a hobby.

She holds a glass in her hand, water dripping down the sides, red lipstick on the rim from her lips. The color matches her enmity, her devilish attitude. Her eyes sparkle in such revenge it could kill everyone in a snap.

"Why would I do that? She was holding me back, what else was I supposed to do?" She places her free hand on her hip, pinching her waist.

You open your mouth, cut off words falling from your lips onto the floor. It's like a dream where you attempt to speak but nothing comes out; you run but you're slow. You're broken with nothing to reply with.

"You don't slap people!" Penelope steps in for you. Penelope is protective, fearless and will step up for you when it is necessary. She won't let anyone make any kind of comment about you if it isn't positive.

"Shut up Penelope," your mom yells, sticking her finger up near her face. "Don't tell me what to do. The next time you lay a goddamn finger on me, Y/N won't be the only one crying for every insult I send her way."

You shake your head, gathering your words in your head and forming them into sentences. "You're one with words, aren't you? You— instead of abusing us with hands and objects you abuse us with your stupid insults. That's what assholes do."

She laughs, cackles almost. "You think I'm abusing you? What is this? I cannot abuse you." She waves her fingers in the air, directing her soft pink painted fingernails at your face.

"Why don't you think you can abuse you? Why don't you think you're abusing us?" you cry, stepping forward, forgetting about all worries you have.

"I'm your mom. I love you both," she quivers, sounding more motherly than before.

"You call us pigs! You tell me that every little thing I'm going through can be fixed if I just don't let the demons in. You tell me that I'm overreacting and that my problems are nothing. You say that I should be happy and not so fucked in the head because I have both of my parents." Your eyes begin to tear up and your nose burns, your head banging from the holding back. Your voice is low and shaky, intimidated.

"I'm here though, aren't I?" she points at herself, attacking her chest with her pointy fingernails.

"No, you aren't. You used to be here physically, never emotionally, and then you left. I don't even have a mom, I have a sister who's had to step in and be my mom because you couldn't be here," your voice rises and you're now yelling, right in her face. Your boiling tears now prickle down your cheek, forming a puddle beneath your feet.

She shakes her head, her lip between her teeth so tightly they might crack open. She's now crying too, out of guilt and nothing else. She dreams of making you the bad guy.

You step in even closer to her, your face now inches away from hers. "You were never fucking here, ever. Every time I had friends who were so close to their moms I— I wished that was me. I wish I could talk to my mom about everything and not have her call me ungrateful, a whore. I wish I had the moms who supported their children and didn't blame a stupid incident they had no power over on their child." Your sobbing now, your words fumbling out of your mouth, your mind choosing not to keep up with any single word. "It wasn't my fault, mom. I tried to stop but it wasn't my fault."

She keeps her eyes on you, her eyebrows and upper lip twitching. She cannot stand you yelling in her face and blaming her for her parenting. But she deserves to be told, given every flaw she's made throughout the years. Miss perfect is not Miss perfect at all. She never was.

"It was your fault."

You bite your lip, your heart beating of your chest, the sound of your blood pumping blocking any other sound around you. "How? How mom, tell me? Was I asking for it?"

She glares.

"Was I asking for it?"

No answer. Just a sip of her water.

The tip of the glass hits your nose and you crack, taking the glass and throwing it across the living room. It shatters all over the floor, shards of glass ending up in crevices of cabinets and between chairs.

She jolts in her stance, her eyes widening and her old red eyes now seeming in danger. "Was I asking for it?" you repeat, your tone desperate and fragile.

Spencer moves behind you and takes your arm, pulling you back gently. Not too far from her, because he knows that if you don't let out all of your anger, you might project it onto someone else who's purely innocent.

"You're a disappointment," she wavers, her voice steady but revealing a hint of shakiness.

You breathe in and breathe out, shrugging your shoulder in defeat. She's given up, just like you've given up on her. It's about time for her to do so. She's continuously fought to show you how much power she has, how much she holds against you; she's beaten you up mentally since you could speak and form your own opinion. You can tell she's stopped caring, and you're glad.

"And you're a bitch. The worst mother in the world," you whisper, taking breaths through short sobs. "I know you're my mom, but disrespectfully, I hate you with all of my heart. Don't ever think about coming back unless you're giving me money to survive. Even then, send it online."

You take one last look at her, your glass eyes blocking her entire dark beauty. Your mother is beautiful, but behind it, she's wicked. Ugly behind her pretty, sad but the truth.

Spencer wraps his arm around your body and turns you around, guiding you back up the stairs into your room. Penelope follows behind you, sneaking into your room. She sits on your bed, her hands between her pink tights, black tears falling down her pale cheeks.

She's hurt. Hearing someone finally say how horrid your mother is has made her realize that she's worse than anyone thought.

Penelope sees the light in everyone. The positives, the good they've done to others, that's why she's never acknowledged how manipulative and emotionally abusive your mother has been. She's forced herself to be blind.

But now, now she knows and her heart has been stabbed. She's no longer seeing her as innocent, she sees her just how you do.

You won't deal with your mother no longer. She may be leaving soon, but you need to leave the infected house and go somewhere. Somewhere that isn't Virginia.

New York maybe. Manhattan. Your dads, specifically.

You reach for your phone next to Penelope and turn your phone on, quickly typing in your password so you can access your phone app.

The screen opens and you click the green phone icon, scrolling through your contacts until you see the one labeled "dad." You tap on the contact and being the phone to your ear, the rings loud and heavy on your eardrums.

You look to Spencer and Penelope, both distressed and looking for an escape. They need one. Spencer can easily go home and not bother dealing with either of you, but he wouldn't do that. He would rather be yelled at by your mother and pulled around by the ear than simply leave.

The phone rings, three times, then your dad picks up. "Hello?" he asks.

"Dad, can I come visit you? Please."

⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉⑉


	13. ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ:  
ᴍᴀʀɪᴊᴜᴀɴᴀ  
ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ  
ᴄᴏᴄᴀɪɴᴇ  
ꜱᴍᴜᴛ  
ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ- ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ʟᴏᴛ  
ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴅɪꜱᴏʀᴅᴇʀ

ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴛᴏᴘɪᴄꜱ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ꜱᴜɪᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ.


End file.
